


Bad Things With You

by almaasi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Biting, Bottom Dean, Catboy Castiel, Catboy Dean, Catboys, Comeplay, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Grooming, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mating, Porn With Plot, Romance, Scruff Biting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 01:32:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/pseuds/almaasi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Extremely alternate canon, in which everybody is an anthropomorphic cat person - imagine fluffy ears and a tail attached to a sad human hunter. There are strict rules in place when it comes to mating, but Dean's found the loophole. What he wants to do with Cas is just a game - it's for fun. It's playtime and pretend; Cas will never guess that it's for real.</p><p>(with art!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Things With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kototyph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kototyph/gifts).
  * Translation into Polski available: [BAWIĆ SIĘ Z TOBĄ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133910) by [patusinka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patusinka/pseuds/patusinka)



> and [manacrystals](http://manacrystals.tumblr.com/)! This fic is a belated birthday gift. I know there's two of you and only one fic, but I hope you both enjoy it ♥
> 
> Set sometime in an alternate season 5: Cas is just this side of fallen, and Team Free Will are making use of Bobby's house as base camp. This story could be classified as somewhat cracky, or cute and fluffy, or it could be a kinky thing, but it’s down to interpretation as to which one it is.
> 
>  **Warnings:** Dom/top!Cas, sub/bottom!Dean. Comeplay, biting ( & scruff-biting), as well as a teeny-weeny bit of erotic spanking. Internalised homophobia.

****

**Chapter 1**

The scent of _mate_ in the room was stifling, and it had been that way for weeks. _Weeks_. It was ridiculous. Sam and Bobby had just had to bear with it, hands over their noses, teeth gritted politely. They both knew the kind of man that Dean was, and he would not take kindly to being told he had an overbearing, intoxicating and _unbelievably disgusting_ scent following him everywhere, especially when it wasn’t the sort he could just wash off.

The scent probably wasn’t disgusting to everyone. In fact, it was likely that it was the opposite, since mating scents tended to be the most amazing scents perceivable to kitty senses. It was only horrendous to Sam and Bobby, given that they were, respectively, Dean’s younger brother and his surrogate father.

Sam had been watching Dean. From what he could see, Dean didn’t even look at Castiel any more than he usually did, but given that they spent practically hours every day staring into the deep pools of the ravishing whatever-it-was they saw in each other’s eyes, there didn’t seem to be anything strange of note.

Except, just maybe, the fact that Sam’s gag reflex tried to cough up a hairball every time Dean walked into the room.

Dean and Castiel weren’t mating, Sam could tell. He couldn’t smell even a tiny bit of fresh satisfaction on Dean; it was just a constant build and build, layers upon layers of sexual repression.

Sam wondered if Dean even _knew_.

There had to be a talk soon. Sam was dreading it, but it had to happen.

◆◇◆◇◆

A long day’s research garnered them nothing but sore asses, their muscles tired of sitting still and reading. Dean groaned and rubbed his weary eyes, then ran his hand over his hair, letting it flop his tall ears back until they flicked forward again. His eyes winked instead of blinking, his natural patterns all messed up because he hadn’t taken a nap today yet.

Castiel gave a tiny little kitten-sized yawn beside him, snapping the book on his lap shut by mistake.

“What d’ya say we call it a night?” Dean suggested, scratching at his stubble. He’d not shaved that morning, and he felt a little fuzzy.

“Hm,” Castiel said, inhaling as he set the giant tome about ancient gods back down on the coffee table.

Neither of them moved to stand up, and Castiel just flopped back into the couch. Bobby had drawn the curtains hours ago before he headed to bed, and the only thing brightening the library right now was the pair of reading lamps on either side of the couch, pouring little waterfalls of sunshine-coloured light into the laps of the two men.

Castiel growled and tipped his head back, his tail starting to twitch at the end.

“You too, huh?” Dean muttered, squinting as he rubbed his eyes with a fingertip and his thumb. “I haven’t had a day this unfulfilling since I waited around all day for the Busty Feline Beauties sequel.”

“And?”

Dean glanced up. “What?”

“And what was unfulfilling about it?” Castiel looked genuinely interested, and Dean gave a soft laugh.

“Rather not talk about it.”

Castiel hummed a short sound, staring at the ceiling. After a second, he pulled his legs up onto the couch and crossed them, his boots shifting until they were hidden under his jeans. Dean had to admit, for a fallen angel, Cas looked pretty damn good in Dean’s second-hand clothes.

Dean leaned a little closer to Castiel, helping him examine the ceiling. The devil’s trap up there was still as good as new.

Dean was pretty sure they were just going to fall asleep here. He’d have been okay with that, that was fine. Hunters did that sometimes, taking a snooze with a buddy on a couch after a long day. Y’know. Not weird. Not wrong at all.

Only a _little_ bit exciting.

Dean tried to hide his smile. He liked being this close. He could feel Castiel’s warmth through their t-shirts, through their jeans. He let his eyes fall closed, just soaking up the amount of things he could sense from Castiel. Heat, the scent of his skin, and of the fur on his ears, the natural oils of the day having gone unwashed since they were so busy. Dean could smell that, and god, he just wanted to nuzzle it.

They were silent.

And then, Castiel purred.

Dean actually had to consciously stop his gasp from being heard. Eyes open, he turned his head to Castiel. Castiel sat up in shock, eyes wide, staring at Dean.

“I... I didn’t mean to do that, I was just...” Castiel’s cheeks flushed pink, his lower lip trembling as he fought to find words. “You were here, and I was comfortable, and we were alone, and―” He almost sneezed out a tiny hiss, hating his word choice, “Not that us being alone has anything to do with that, I mean, about the purr, I was just―”

“It’s okay,” Dean assured him, a hand raised softly, hovering over his chest, seeing his breath coming fast and hard, on edge. “Cas, it’s fine. We all purr every now and again, right? It’s a positive thing. Let it out.”

Castiel’s blue eyes darted between Dean’s placating hand and his face, trying to gauge what Dean was saying here. Shaking his head slightly, Castiel pressed his lips together. “I can’t do it if you’re listening.”

Dean gave a tiny smile, lowering his hand to Castiel’s thigh. “I’m not listening. Just... here.” He slumped back to his place on the couch, closing his eyes. “I’m dozing again. Not listening.”

Castiel was quiet for a while, not even moving to relax. Then, he said, “Why don’t we just get to sleep? In our own beds, not on the couch.”

Dean swallowed. “Maybe I wanna sleep here.”

“Well maybe _I_ already claimed this spot.”

“If you want the couch, you gotta purr.” Dean didn’t know why he said that. Actually, no - he did. He wanted to hear Cas purr. So fucking badly. It wasn’t even a sexy thing, he just needed to know what Castiel sounded like when he let his guard down.

Being hunters, they never got to hear each other happy. Dean heard Sam’s purr a few times a year, at most. Dean heard Bobby purr _once_ , and that was because Dean had been dying at the time, and Bobby had just wanted to reassure him.

Dean only purred when he was alone. Under blankets, pillow over his head. It made him cry, sometimes. He didn’t have much in his life that was happy, so he never got a real purr. All he got to do was reminisce over good times that were ancient history.

Castiel was just... quiet. But Dean could tell that he was considering it.

“Only if you keep your eyes closed,” Castiel said. “And... and don’t tell anyone. And...”

“It’s okay,” Dean whispered. “It’s a secret, I promise.”

And it was. He wanted to be selfish with this. Keep it for himself. Nobody could ever have heard Castiel’s purr but Castiel. And - okay, maybe Jimmy’s family heard it, but that was _Jimmy_. Jimmy was long gone, and his body was all angel-filled now. Specifically, filled with a fallen angel named Castiel.

Castiel swallowed twice, and Dean heard him sink back into the couch cushions.

There was more silence, and Dean swore he could feel Castiel’s heartbeat where their bodies still edged each other, Dean’s hand still on Castiel’s thigh. He stroked the denim with a thumb, just trying to ease him.

The silence became deafening.

“Cas?”

“I... I can’t start.”

“I won’t judge.”

“It’s not that, I... I can’t _start_. I lost it.”

Dean had promised to keep his eyes shut. So he didn’t look over, but he tipped his head a little, feeling the tip of his ear folded by a cushion. “This... Okay, this might be...” Dean laughed, gentle and nervous, “really forward, like, forward as anything you’ve ever heard in your life, but...” He gulped hard. “But would it be okay if I helped?”

“How?”

Dean’s smile twitched the corner of his lips. “Maybe... groom you?”

The silence this time was _shocked_.

“Dean...”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, determined to keep them closed now, just to stick to his guns. “I know. Look, I know that’s a big deal, but―”

“It would mean we’re... family―”

“You’ve always been family, Cas,” Dean replied, voice low, but still cutting over Castiel’s confused words. “Maybe it’s time we, you know, showed it. Or I showed it. I don’t really see Bobby grooming you anytime soon.”

Castiel chuckled, and Dean felt his vibration under his hand.

Castiel eventually answered. “Okay. But! But, keep your eyes closed. Please.”

“I will,” Dean assured him. He took a last, calming breath, trying to pin down the flutters and the surges and the colour that danced in his stomach. This was a big step, one he never thought he’d take, despite having been thinking about it for months. Maybe longer than that, but that had always been just a fantasy. Recently he’d been _craving_ Cas’ attention like this, and now...

He had it. He leaned in, guiding himself by sense alone; warmth, air pressure, scent.

Such a scent. Oak, maybe. Dust, spring water. Lime souffle.

The first lap of his tongue on Castiel’s ear made Castiel shudder. Dean breathed in again as Castiel’s ear flicked his face, twitching in surprise.

Dean licked again, this time feeling the shape of Cas’ ears under his wide, textured tongue; soft like velvet. Fucking hell, it was like he was _made_ of velvet. Dean had never felt softer ears in his life. They bent down like cloth as his tongue dipped over the tops, lapping the fur into the grain, base to tip.

“Dean,” Castiel whispered, a hand moving to clutch Dean on the thigh, blunt nails gripping. “Oh, that feels so strange.”

“Good strange?” Dean asked, pulling away briefly to ask, as he swallowed down the residual taste of _Cas_. He licked his own lips, then moved back to lick Cas again before the other man answered.

“Yes,” Castiel breathed, trembling again as Dean’s tongue found its way across the soft edge of one triangle. Dean felt a sigh gust over his shoulder, hot. “Yes, Dean, I think... I like this?”

“Good,” Dean whispered, moving to the other ear before he’d even finished the first one, hungry for another taste. “Good, because I’m not gonna stop until you’re purring.”

Castiel gave a tiny purr, just at that. He laughed quickly, embarrassed.

But Dean just grinned, licking long and slow, eyes peeking open a crack, then closing again, remembering himself. “C’mon, let’s hear that engine of yours.”

Castiel tipped his head towards Dean, offering himself, but gave no purr yet.

Dean slid his hand from Castiel’s thigh up to his jaw, holding him in place as he groomed him. Castiel’s breathing eventually became steady, warm air hovering over Dean’s wrist.

Dean pressed his face closer, nose touching the perky little shape of Castiel’s tufty hair. He truly smelled gorgeous, and Dean blessed the fact that he could lick and breathe at the same time.

It had to have been at least five minutes before Castiel let out a tiny rumble. It broke after a moment, but as Dean said nothing, Castiel let it out.

Dean’s tongue _had_ to keep moving, he couldn’t take the consequences if Castiel ever stopped making that noise.

It was deep, rounded, a rattling like a ball in his chest. Something was hollow in it, and Dean felt like he slotted perfectly into that hollow, completing the sound just as he sat there, sat around Castiel, twisted at the hips, licking his life away.

Family, it meant. Grooming meant family. But a brother Castiel was not, not to Dean. Dean wished he could explain that, but he couldn’t. He wanted Castiel as a mate, but that was just plain ridiculous. Males didn’t mate. It wasn’t physically possible, for one thing.

Dean lost himself in the rhythm of it, the lapping, the swallowing, the turn of his head, the stroke of his thumb down Castiel’s smooth cheek.

He surely lived for the very moment that Castiel let his head fall backwards against the couch, a sigh escaping his mouth, purr turning loud, a trill on the end of each roll. Dean’s hips pressed into Castiel’s thigh, wanting to get closer, wanting to give him more.

“Cas,” he whispered, the need for more comfort like a well in the back of his throat. “Cas, please, I gotta...”

Castiel misinterpreted.

Dean froze the moment he felt a tongue on his ears, a sweet, careful drag that barely shifted his stubborn ears at all, but by all accounts, rearranged the constellations of his freckles across his skin as he shivered.

“Ouuuhh...” Dean moaned, eyelids fluttering. Castiel was still purring, and the sound was like a friggin’ _vibrator_ against him. It was so loud beside Dean’s ear that for a moment, Dean could easily visualise a plane was taking off in front of his face.

“Shh,” Castiel whispered, hands resting firmly on Dean’s forearms as they lay helpless on his lap, his wrists covering his slight erection.

“Oh, god, Cas,” Dean said, barely using his voice at all. He tilted his head, giving Castiel all the access it was possible to give him. He just wanted the rough slide of that tongue everywhere, but for now, he was more than happy to let it stay on his ears.

“It’s a secret,” Castiel told him, licking again. “Secret that we groomed each other.”

“Won’t tell,” Dean agreed, tingles shimmering like falling diamonds through every nerve in his body, pooling in his groin, in his stomach, in his heart. “Won’t tell, just us...”

Castiel’s purr changed pitch, his hips shifting on the couch to get closer; Dean didn’t even know what position they were in now, he’d forgotten where his legs were, and he didn’t care - all he felt was Castiel’s tongue on him, hands holding him steady, palms warm. Fire inside him; raw, quiet energy.

He didn’t know how Cas was interpreting this. Did he know Dean was aroused, could he smell it? He’d never said a thing about the fact Dean had been desperately, actively _longing_ for him whenever they were together, but maybe he was just too polite. Dean never smelled anything similar on Castiel, so maybe this was all just innocent for him.

Males didn’t mate, after all. This would have to be Dean’s private sick fantasy.

Dean just turned his head this way and that, mouth hanging slack, eyes closed comfortably. Castiel’s thrum sought his heart, and he just let it surround him.

Castiel paused for a second, swallowing. Then he chuckled, mouth closed. “Dean, you’re purring?”

Dean gasped slowly, not opening his eyes. “Shit,” he breathed.

But he didn’t stop purring, just let it pour out of him. It was like releasing a firework, the kind that crackles, burns bright, sending out sparks and a fountain of light, but doesn’t stop. The pressure was gone, and he just let himself drift into the total bliss of the moment.

Castiel purred, and Dean purred, and it was a secret. They could never tell anyone, because nobody would ever understand. Being unrelated and being family was too hard to explain to people. Bobby never groomed anyone else; he was an old man, he didn’t do that sort of thing, especially not to younger males. For Dean to be grooming Cas was like... blasphemy. It had to be. No two male kitties should be this close.

“Cas, don’t stop,” Dean whispered, even though Castiel showed no sign of stopping.

“Do you do this with Sam?” Castiel asked, nose brushing a tender line down the firm edge of Dean’s ear, rumpling the short fur.

Dean chuckled, an awkward grin surfacing. “Not like this.”

Castiel smiled; Dean heard how it changed his purr. “Good. Good, I’m glad.”

Dean grinned back, eyes tight as he kept them shut. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Only that―” a lick, switching ears again, “we can share this, and it’s... secret.”

“It’s not like I tell everybody about days I groom Sam.”

“No, but, this is special. Between you and me.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. The extent to which he agreed was likely far more than Castiel could deal with, and that made Dean a little sad. “Yeah, it is.”

Sighing, they lapsed into silence, the small library filled up with the sound of their purrs, as well as the tiny wet licks that Castiel gave. Dean couldn’t help but think: Castiel was so much better at this than Sam. It was incomparable, really, since Dean could only interpret Sam’s grooming as them being close, but for Castiel, it felt like intimacy.

He really, really loved this, and that was in spite of what this session was going cause for him in the department of blue balls.

Dean didn’t know how long it went on. He didn’t know when they started, and he didn’t know when they stopped, but by the time he’d gotten the last lick, hands cradling Castiel’s head as he savoured his scent, he was pretty sure he was sleep-grooming.

He woke up the next morning, sunlight blazing through a crack between the curtains and drenching his eyes in light. He blinked quickly; it took less than ten seconds to realise he was resting head-to-head with Castiel, and another ten seconds to safely extricate himself, light-footed.

He stood there for a moment, taking a few seconds to breathe, process things.

He’d woken up happy. For the first time in years.

He just stared down at the man slumped back on the couch, saw how he was relaxed, hands open, palms up, tail hanging boneless beside his thigh. Dean didn’t really have to hazard a guess, just about knowing for certain that Castiel would wake up happy, too.

◆◇◆◇◆

****

**Chapter 2**

“Come in,” Dean said. He set his book down on his lap, looking up to see who had entered. He smiled. “Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said quietly, turning to close Dean’s bedroom door behind him. “I, um...”

Dean gazed curiously at Castiel. He didn’t usually stall, nor hesitate like that, not when he wanted to say something particular.

“What’s up?” Dean put the book down on the nightstand, giving Castiel his full attention.

Castiel constructed a smile, tense and awkward. “I wanted to ask a favour.”

“Shoot.” Dean crossed his legs, sitting forward on the bed. His pillow fell against his lower back, released from where he’d been leaning on it.

Castiel hesitated a little more, then went to sit on the edge of Dean’s bed, inches from Dean’s holey sock. He looked at Dean’s chest, as if afraid to look him in the eye. His ears were straight up, attentive, but his tail hung limp, sitting flat on Dean’s bedspread and giving him no hints about what Castiel was meaning to ask.

Castiel’s pink tongue lapped his lips, almost touching his nose. “It’s a bit embarrassing.”

“I can keep a secret,” Dean smiled, glad Castiel now associated the word ‘secret’ with their grooming session: his cheeks coloured, eyes shining at the sudden heat.

“Actually, it’s about that,” Castiel said. “About what we... did.”

Dean looked Castiel in the eye and nodded. “All right.”

Castiel couldn’t hold eye contact, gaze snapping to the wall instead. “I need it again. The grooming.”

Butterflies soared in Dean’s system, red-hot in places, cold in others. Pleasure from Castiel’s words, excitement. “Uhhhh, huh.” Dean cleared his throat. “Don’t mean to pry, but... why?”

Castiel flattened his ears and looked even further away. “I... can’t...”

“Hm?”

“I can’t do it, I can’t purr when I’m alone,” Castiel murmured. “When I did it with you, that was the first time, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just―” he puffed out a frustrated sound, “I really enjoyed it. I mean...” He looked right at Dean, a pleading shape carved between his eyebrows. “I mean, I really enjoyed it. A lot.”

“Yeah,” Dean smiled, looking down at his crossed feet. “Me too.”

“You can’t purr?”

“What?” Dean glanced up, then back down. “No, I mean I enjoyed it. I can purr fine on my own,” he added, almost defensively. Perhaps it was a lie, but Castiel didn’t have to know that. Dean’s ears twitched though, and he wondered if Castiel knew that was his tell.

“Will you help?” Castiel asked, voice low and uneasy as he stared at the bare floorboards. “I know it’s terrible of me to ask―”

“No, I’m glad you asked,” Dean sighed, clenching his eyes shut as he rolled his chin upward. He was glad that Cas was expressing his feelings, but he was also exasperated about the fact that he himself was so accepting of said expression. “Better to ask for help than keep it bottled up.”

Castiel bobbed his head, reassured.

“You, uh... wanna do it right now?” Dean asked, eyes flicking to the door and back. He felt trepidation; Sam or Bobby might knock at any minute - it was only mid-afternoon, for god’s sakes. The grey light of the overcast day was drifting through the skylight, bathing everything in its gentle glow.

“Yes,” Castiel said. “It’s all I can think about; I can’t concentrate on my work.”

Dean shuffled a little closer, parting his legs around Castiel’s back, just off to the side so Castiel wouldn’t feel his erection on his back if and when Dean got hard. “What were you working on?”

“Vampire case,” Castiel said, blinking. “I was just trying to take notes and I kept doodling instead.”

Dean smirked, getting himself as close as he could to Castiel without touching properly, practically teasing himself. “What were you doodling? They say doodles say a lot about a person. Since you’re one of us now, yours probably say a lot about you.”

Castiel gave a quiet, second-long laugh. “Ears, would you believe.”

Dean leaned in close, licking his lips, swallowing as he tasted the haze of agitation around Cas. “Yeah,” he whispered, lips almost touching the dark brown fur beside him. “I believe it.”

He put his tongue against Castiel, and Castiel seemed to deflate. Tension puffed out of him with a sigh, a hand rolling back to grab Dean around the knee, squeezing. “Ouhh... Dean.”

“I gotcha, buddy,” Dean said, a hand going to hold Castiel’s meaty hip, the other sliding, sliding, sliding, until it crept up the other side, fingers sinking into the dip between Castiel’s low-riding jeans and his age-softened t-shirt. Dean pressed into his hip bone, knowing Castiel was too distracted with Dean’s tongue to notice or care.

Dean fantasised about hip bones the same way he fantasised about licking. Sometimes, his fantasies included both. Even when he got himself off, the visual wasn’t as good as having this, here. A real male hip bone, under the soft pads of his fingers, solid and rigid the way women’s hips just _weren’t_.

Sick, twisted fantasies.

Castiel sighed and lay his head back on Dean’s shoulder, and turned his face away so Dean could lick the back of one ear. Dean spat out the longer hairs, tasting the hair gel Castiel had put into his hair this morning.

Castiel had only been separated from Heaven for a few months, but in that time, he’d found his style. He styled sex hair, just like it was at the time the two of them first met, wore the tightest of the t-shirts Dean gave him, the pairs of jeans that hung lowest on his hips. And that damn trenchcoat went everywhere with him when they left the house. Not that Dean complained. Maybe that trenchcoat featured in a few of his fantasies, too.

Castiel’s lips parted and he groaned, and it was glorious that Dean got to _see_ it happen this time. Castiel’s stubbled face rasped against Dean’s cheek, jaw relaxed, eyes closed. Then the purr began.

Dean felt it buzzing against his shoulder where Castiel leaned on him, he felt it under his tongue as he groomed. Castiel’s body was electric, and Dean cradled him, holding tight, bringing him the relief he’d asked for.

Dean hadn’t even been surprised to find out that their time together had been Castiel’s first purr. He wasn’t surprised to know Castiel wanted more, either - their session had definitely been out of the ordinary, in that... well, regular grooming never went on for too long. Not for hours. Dean was pretty sure they’d gone for hours; his ears had never been sorer, nor cleaner.

Even between Dean and Sammy, in a relationship where they would and literally already had _died_ for one another, moments of affection were brief. Minutes at the most.

What he and Castiel had shared was transcendental. Freakish, maybe. And addictive. Dean, like Castiel, hadn’t been able to think about anything else. He wasn’t even sure what book he’d been reading before. His mind was all on the feel of Castiel’s tongue, of his fur, his vibration.

Dean was hard as fuck right now. Castiel didn’t know, as Dean was careful not to get his crotch too close. He was just so intensely _involved_ with this.

Castiel was safe here, and he had relaxed in Dean’s arms. He’d come back to Dean so he could feel that way again. He _wanted_ Dean, even if it wasn’t the same way Dean wanted _him_ , there was a necessity there that Dean had the ability to fulfill. Castiel had said the word himself: _need_. He needed Dean.

“Dean,” Castiel murmured, the light sound almost lost under his rumble. “Dean, I think I want this more. It’s been two weeks since before, I want it more than that.”

“Wanna make an appointment?” Dean joked, grinning against the tip of Castiel’s ear, feeling the flip-flop of its softness in the dip above his top lip. “I’m free all week.”

“No, we have a hunt tomorrow―”

Dean chuckled. “I was kidding. Just come when you want,” he said, licking again.

“I want it tomorrow,” Castiel said, sitting up and pulling off Dean’s shoulder as his purr stopped abruptly.

In a rush, Dean grabbed his pillow and put it over the thick bulge in his crotch, resting his elbow on it like he’d been doing that all along. Castiel turned around, still perched on the edge of the bed.

“I’ve never felt more...” Castiel shook his head, lifting an empty hand to look at the palm. “I don’t know. Good. Not since I fell, not since I had all that power in me. Not since it started draining away.”

Dean smiled, fiddling with his fingers above the pillow.

“I want this every day,” Castiel said, like it was already decided. “If that’s acceptable.”

Dean chuckled. “Your ears are gonna be mighty clean. People are gonna start asking questions.”

Castiel put his hands together and put them between his knees, looking at the floor. “Yes. This is awkward, isn’t it.”

Dean gnawed idly at his lower lip, thinking. “Maybe just have short sessions. Leave to go to the bathroom or whatever, you meet me there, we have this really quick groom, and then get back before anyone misses us. Just gotta learn to purr fast.”

Castiel smirked, eyes still down.

“Sound good?”

Castiel nodded, cheeks a tiny bit pinker than before. “Very.”

Dean tried not to move anything below his middle; he was liable to experience some very sticky fireworks at any given moment. “Are... are we done here for now? ‘cause I wanna get... back to my book,” he stumbled, relieved to actually have an excuse.

Castiel nodded slowly. “Unless you want me to reciprocate?” he asked, looking _hopefully_ at Dean.

Fuck. Dean wanted that so incredibly that he could just come from the need alone. And yet, he didn’t want Castiel to see that, wanting privacy.

Dean swiped his tongue across his lower lip. “Next time?”

Castiel smiled slightly. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Dean echoed, watching Castiel as he stood. His t-shirt flopped back down where Dean had been holding his hip bone. No mention, gone unnoticed.

Dean smiled and waved as Castiel paused by the door and looked back, gratitude in his nod.

And then Dean was alone, and his hand went straight down his pants... only to find the first touch made him spray his orgasm across his t-shirt, white-hot, releasing a pent-up desperation like nothing he’d ever felt before. The pleasure was blinding. Numbing, paralysing.

He heard knocking, and he gasped lazily, head rolling against his bed. Castiel, asking if he was okay, as he’d heard a shout. Dean’s lip curled in a guilty smile. “‘m fine,” he drawled, eyes closing. “Just dropped somethin’.”

He held his breath until Castiel padded away, hearing his boots take the stairs with a bounce in his step.

Dean laughed to the sloped ceiling, feeling like he was spread out over the whole room, gravity-free and yet as heavy as the whole planet, the density of his release too much for him to deal with at once.

He’d groomed Castiel for a second time, and had been left feeling like the happiest man on Earth.

◆◇◆◇◆

****

**Chapter 3**

“Yeah, but I mean, we’ve got an arsenal of silver in the trunk, so it shouldn’t be too difficult,” Dean said, crossing his arms.

Sam pulled a face, exhaling as he dragged his eyes back to the printout in front of him.

He started to speak, but Dean didn’t actually hear a single word he said. His focus was on Castiel.

Castiel was perched on the arm of the couch, legs apart over it, one leg crooked to rest his boot on the seat, the other leg planted firmly on the floor. He wasn’t looking at Sam, he was looking at Dean. His ears twitched. They’d twitched a few times, but they twitched again as Dean stared.

A little flick of both ears, outward. His eyes and face gave nothing away, but his ears looked mighty fidgety.

Dean cleared his throat, unfolding his arms and looking at Sam. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he said, cutting across what Sam was saying.

“Uh, yeah, okay, but - hey, hey!” Sam called after him, flapping some paper. “Come back quickly, I need to finish explaining this!”

Dean went for the downstairs bathroom, the door rattling as he shut it behind him. He’d wait here. It was chilly in here, this part of the house still in morning shadow, but he was sure he’d warm up soon enough.

And, right on time, Castiel rapped on the door. Dean opened up, beamed as Castiel backed inside, shutting the door as he entered, ruffling the thick lace curtain which was draped over the pointless window placed at eye level.

“What did you tell him?” Dean asked, hand going at once to stroke Castiel’s ear down, relishing the sigh Castiel gave at the touch.

“Said I left something in the yard,” Castiel said, his last word lost to a groan. “Dean, please... tongue?”

Dean grinned, grabbing Castiel and shoving him in front of the mirror.

“What are you doing?” Castiel asked, squinting as Dean patted his shoulders, getting him to squat a little then rest on the edge of the sink, so Dean could reach his ears with his mouth.

“This way I can watch your fa―” Dean cleared his throat, glancing at the curious eyes that looked back at him in their reflection. “Your... uh.” He didn’t have another word.

“Dean, is this a sexual thing?”

Dean laughed. “What? No, come on, what kind of guy do you think I am?” He scoffed, thumbing at the base of Castiel’s skull. “It’s just... easier. You know. To, uh. To see what your reaction is like. So I know what I’m doing good.”

“I see,” Castiel said, eyes sliding to the faucet. “Well you had better begin, or Sam will think you’re―”

“Yeah, I know. Shh.”

Dean closed his eyes and leaned in, opening them in time to watch Castiel’s lips part at the first touch of tongue. The buzz that coursed through them both was so obvious that Dean saw it. He grinned, bit his lip, then sighed and licked again.

Just quick. Lapping, lapping, licking.

Castiel slowed his breath on purpose, ears twitching, cheek twitching.

But no purr.

“Dean, I can’t...”

“Shh,” Dean said. “Just quick. Secret little purrs, come on. Just for me.”

Castiel’s sigh came with a whimper. “Dean...” he chuckled, “I’m too excited to purr.”

Dean moved his mouth away and Castiel stood, blue eyes meeting Dean’s green ones in the mirror. “What’re you excited about?” Dean asked.

Castiel’s eyes skittered away, then back. He shrugged a shoulder. “You.”

“Me?” Dean’s smirk was infectious, and Castiel laughed again as he turned around, eyes closed so he didn’t see the mirror any more.

“This. What we’re doing, the secrecy. It’s exciting.”

Dean gave a hum of agreement. “It’s like airplane sex.”

“Yes.”

“But... grooming.”

“Yes.”

“Between family.”

“...Yes.” Castiel’s grin sagged, but he still smiled. “Yes, we’re family.”

Dean leaned against him, their backs to the mirror. “I’ll get you to purr next time, yeah? Gotta head back.”

Castiel nodded, accepting. “I look forward to it.”

◆◇◆◇◆

Dean threw them both into someone’s abandoned closet while they were on a witch hunt. No witches, bones already burned, everything was safe, but Sammy was elsewhere, making a call to Bobby. They had a minute.

Castiel knelt on the carpet, Dean slotted his knees between his and knelt up, curling his shoulders over him to reach his head. His crotch was so close to Castiel’s face like this. Dean was getting adventurous - this was only the second time they’d attempted speed-grooming, but he was starting to hope Castiel would see him getting hard. There was something just as exciting about the danger of not knowing if Castiel knew as it was exciting to keep it secret. Secrets, when it came to things that got Dean aroused, were always fun.

Castiel grabbed at Dean’s shirtsleeves, groaning, desperate, but no purr, and Dean didn’t even get time to get hard from it, because his cellphone rang and he had to answer. He hated cellphones; holding them up to his ears always made his arms ache. He couldn’t wait for the day he could invest in an in-ear clip-on thing. Having tall ears was really very impractical.

◆◇◆◇◆

A diner bathroom in Arkansas. Castiel folded himself over with one knee on the closed toilet lid, one foot on the floor, Dean standing behind him. Castiel refused to touch anything, refused to make any noise, but he writhed, breathing hard, gasping, angrily thumping a fist on his own thigh when he only managed a second of a purr before someone else walked into the restroom.

◆◇◆◇◆

Dean’s bedroom. Dean started to get hard the moment he saw Castiel close the door, but Castiel never saw. Dean got him lying on his stomach on the bed, laughed as he straddled Castiel’s ass, played at humping him, making it look like a joke. _Ha-ha-ha, look, I’m mating with you._

It wasn’t funny when Castiel purred, got Dean as hard as a motherfucking stripper pole, but Dean was too scared to rub against him, and spent the whole hour somewhere between trying not to come, and trying to make the arousal go away.

Castiel returned the favour, Dean scurrying to lie on his stomach so Castiel couldn’t see his bulge as he sat up. Dean came in his jeans at the first lick, not wearing underwear. He didn’t let Castiel hear nor feel his pleasure.

Castiel might have seen the wet patch as he left, but Dean couldn’t be sure. He wasn’t sure whether he _wanted_ him to see or not.

◆◇◆◇◆

In the middle of the night, Dean ran into Castiel in the kitchen, getting water. He called it a happy coincidence, but he’d been lying awake, waiting to hear him go downstairs.

It took him a few stops and starts, but finally Dean blurted out, “If you get to need it, then I get to need it too.”

Dean clutched the kitchen chair until his knuckles went numb, purring like his car that time she overheated in the Arizona desert. Castiel whispered sweet nothings against him, _Beautiful. Listen to that, Dean; that’s yours, that’s your voice, that’s your soul. That’s God in your veins, Dean. Listen._

Dean didn’t come that time, he’d just been truly, truly surrounded by Castiel’s words. He felt love in him as he dragged his feet back to bed, whispering goodnights to Castiel as they parted in the hall. Castiel’s whispers were like aural love, infecting him.

He fell into bed, hands in his hair, laughing quietly, breathy. His heart was wild with this... passion. To have Castiel groom him was the most amazing thing in existence, or out of it.

The word ‘happiness’ didn’t seem to cover it.

◆◇◆◇◆

They curled in front of the TV without a couch to sit on, Castiel kneeling sideways, the two of them watching a documentary about elephants. Dean had been licking Castiel for two hours now, and they’d both gotten so bored with Castiel’s inability to purr that they’d diverted their attention. But Dean didn’t stop licking.

That was the first time.

◆◇◆◇◆

Castiel knelt at the edge of the motel room bath, forehead on its rim, yowling under his breath. It had been two weeks since he’d purred last, and Dean could understand why he was so frustrated. It was like not being able to come, getting so close and then never being able to tip the scales and tumble the rest of the way.

Dean couldn’t use his tongue any more, his lips were too sore. He fingered Cas’ ears, grazing the fine, fluffy edge, trying every trick he’d ever learned to use on Cas, or on himself.

It wasn’t about cleaning or comfort any more, it was essentially to give Cas a psychological high. Dean learned, after having Castiel show him the wonders of a good purr, that it kept him happy. It was born of happiness, and it bred it, too. Castiel was falling apart, fraying without that high. It was withdrawal, and he wasn’t taking it well.

◆◇◆◇◆

Dean didn’t allow Castiel to groom him, no more than a few licks at a time. He needed to bring Cas off first, or he wouldn’t feel right.

They sat side-by-side in Bobby’s dusty old attic, hidden between a suit of armour and a box of steel nails which were organised by size.

Castiel whimpered, tears shimmering at the corners of his eyes, fists clenched.

Dean couldn’t do it any more. Maybe he’d failed; he couldn’t make his best friend happy.

◆◇◆◇◆

Somewhere in a forest, Castiel took Dean out of sight of the graveyard they’d just taken care of a ghost in. Sam waited in the car, under the impression that Castiel had seen a rare kind of bee that Dean had a particular interest in, and no, Sam would absolutely under no circumstances be at all interested in this bee, this bee was made for Dean’s eyes only, and God would not be happy if Sam saw this very specific bee.

Castiel clawed at the bark of a tree, tail thrashing, grunting as Dean breathed softly against him.

Dean barely heard the words Castiel said, as they came out broken and weak. “It’s not your fault.”

◆◇◆◇◆

In a warehouse in Utah, a wayward reaper lay successfully smoked like a salmon across the concrete floors. Dean dusted off his hands, nodded at Sam, and told him he was going to make a call.

Castiel met him beside the car, sitting pretty on the hood, the shadows under his eyes being the only sign that something was the matter.

Dean cupped his head, leaned close, and licked him until he cried.

Castiel punched a dent in the car. Dean was surprised, and annoyed, but said nothing about it.

◆◇◆◇◆

A field of strawberries in Nevada. Castiel smote a plant and it burst into flames.

◆◇◆◇◆

Panting after a rooftop chase, Castiel threw Dean against the gravel and climbed on top of him, desperation like a demon behind his eyes. Dean groomed him the best he could, but Castiel only rested his forehead to Dean’s chest, racked out a dry sob, then shoved Dean so hard that he shifted a foot over the gravel, only to look up and see Castiel running away, trenchcoat flapping.

◆◇◆◇◆

They locked themselves into a storage room in an abandoned museum somewhere in Wyoming. Castiel stepped back and growled - _growled_ \- at Dean, until Dean held his hands up in apology, mouth open to round against words he didn’t know how to say.

Castiel punched him, hard. Dean thudded back against the wall with a yelp, and clutched at his face. He stared at Castiel dumbly, more out of shock than pain.

Castiel’s face slid from angry to hurt, then he burst into tears and hauled Dean into the most intense hug he’d ever received.

He’d never heard the word ‘sorry’ in so many languages before, either.

◆◇◆◇◆

The upstairs bathroom at Bobby’s house: that’s where they found the answer.

Castiel was keeping his feelings down, keeping calm on purpose. He didn’t want to hurt Dean. He _never_ wanted to hurt Dean.

They stared together into the mirror, Dean whispered it was going to be okay, they were going to find a way to get it back. No matter what it took. Even anti-depressants hadn’t worked. It wasn’t depression, it was... broken.

Dean closed his eyes and began to lick, and Castiel slumped down, giving up already. The sudden movement made Dean’s lips snap together, not quite a bite, but not a lick either.

The hair on Castiel’s tail rose, the tip of it twitching against Dean’s leg. Dean wasn’t bothered by it, that was normal.

“Dean,” Castiel said suddenly, lifting his head. “Do that again.”

“Do what?”

“Bite me.”

“B... what?”

Castiel turned around, something ignited behind his eyes. With his gaze locked on Dean, he stepped into his space, shoving him. “Bite me.”

“What? Cas, that was an accident―”

Castiel pushed him back against the tiles, and Dean turned his head to the side, not expecting to be hit, but wondering if Castiel would.

Castiel slapped his hands flat on either side of Dean, his eyes... wow, they were _wild_. He leaned close, breath hot on Dean’s lips.

He wouldn’t kiss. No way. That was beyond forbidden, beyond blasphemous. Kissing was like... instant Hell, forever.

Castiel instead leaned up to whisper in Dean’s ear, mouth tickling the fine whiskers that spread out from the inside. “Bite. Me.”

And just to prove the point, he snapped his lips on Dean’s stiff ear; no teeth, just lips, a drag. Dean’s ear flicked back upright, and he looked down his nose at Castiel, questions running in his mind. Is this what Castiel liked? Like... a kink?

Castiel bit his lower lip, innocence and wickedness all bundled into his expression, maddening in his enigmatic ways. Dean took the bait and snapped, without warning.

Castiel shoved him, Dean hit the wall again. Castiel breathed hard, a loose grin around his breath.

Dean shoved. Bit him, growling.

Castiel growled back, quick, eager - hand on Dean’s shirt collar, teeth to the tip of his ear, just light.

Dean snarled, grappling with blunt fingers at Castiel, a surge of excitement in him - not anger, not arousal, just exhilaration. Fight.

Castiel clawed Dean’s shoulder; Dean slapped Castiel’s hand away. Castiel bit, and Dean bit, hearing Castiel’s faint gasp. Needy. Shoving, hauling each other by their clothes, they moved across the bathroom, eyes on each other as they bit quickly, knees knocking, thighs touching and brushing and bumping.

Castiel fell back across the sink counter with a cry, the sound followed by a whine, mouth open and wanting as he chased an invisible line that led to Dean’s ears.

Dean was hard now. Pressed against Castiel’s thigh. Castiel was hard, pressed to Dean’s hip.

So, it was like that, then. Not brothers.

 _Animals_.

Bite, bite, snap, they laughed, desperate little grabs at each other, pawing each other’s faces, growls on their breaths.

They broke the cabinet handles, left handprints on the mirror. Ears in mouths, the licking intermittent now. It was about the teeth, about the lips, about the tiny little bursts of fury they could unleash.

“Just playing,” Dean whispered, breathless, then he grabbed Castiel’s velvet ear and dragged his teeth like he was dragging them on delicate lace. The tiny layer of fur rumpled up, Castiel’s cartilage shifting under the sensation. Dean breathed softly as it flicked back upright, and he set his mouth against Castiel’s stubbled jaw, breathing deep. “Just a game.”

“Secret,” Castiel whispered back, face turning fast to rest his own upper lip on Dean’s cheek. Not kissing, never kissing, can’t kiss. “Secret games?”

“Yeah,” Dean growled back, shoving Castiel against the bath, grinning when he slid halfway into it before catching himself on the wall with a hand, laughing up at Dean as he helped him back to his feet. “Yeah, just between us. We can play this.”

Castiel’s eyes slid to Dean’s crotch, seeing how hard he was. “Get... excited.”

“Yeah,” Dean muttered, licking his lips as he saw Castiel palm his own crotch. “Don’t need to do anything about it, right? Just... make it happen.”

Castiel nodded, gulping. Then he shook his head. “We’re not allowed.”

Dean ran his hand over his mouth, out of breath still. “Really bad.”

“Yeah.”

Castiel nodded again, closing his mouth then opening it again, needing air. His skin was flushed, his dark hair rumpled, ears looking exhausted. Dean’s own brown ears looked sore in the mirror, and they felt as sore as they looked. There had to be scratches under the fur, red marks. He liked being able to feel it, so different to the tingles he’d feel after grooming.

“Still not purring though,” Dean grinned, losing the grin to a fast exhale, panting, panting.

Castiel stepped towards the door, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. This is good, I like this.”

Dean followed him, hand on his crotch, adjusting himself so his stiffness wouldn’t be so obvious once they left the bathroom.

Castiel opened the door, looking back, eyes dark. “It’s just a game.”

Dean nodded. “It’s, uh... it’s like playtime, right?”

Castiel smiled. “Yes.”

Eyes still locked, they left the room, then broke apart and went separate ways down the hallway. They looked back once at the same time, and they both smiled.

◆◇◆◇◆

****

**Chapter 4**

“Then,” Bobby said, slamming another book onto the pile, “I get the rifle out, and I point it at this guy’s buttass head, and I pull the damn trigger without so much as a warnin’ shot―”

Dean was riveted, barely doing anything with the books but just focused solely on Bobby’s words. He hadn’t heard anything this interesting since Sam’s story about the frog and the spaghetti.

“And for all the hell he put me through―”

“Dean,” Castiel said, his voice overshadowing Bobby’s. Dean turned to look at him, seeing his pretty blue eyes sparkling with afternoon sun through the library window, his ears perkier than they had been the previous day.

“What’s up, Cas?” Dean asked, glancing to Bobby as he noticed the old man stop talking, his grey ears swivelled in Dean’s direction.

Castiel fidgeted with the hem of Dean’s shirt, eyes on Dean’s shoulder. “I want to play.”

Dean gulped. New kink: innocent-looking angels saying innocent things that really meant total filth. “Now?”

“Yes.”

Dean chewed his lip, eyes on Bobby, knowing the old man had heard Castiel’s quiet words. “Uh, c- can it wait a little while? Bobby was in the middle of telling me something.”

Castiel let out a tiny breath. “I... No, I need to, right now. I’ve been really... looking forward to this. And I need to play right now.”

Looking forward to...? Ah. Castiel’s jeans were pitched like a goddamn tent. Dean curled his sweating hands a little tighter around his knees. Louder, for Bobby, he asked, “Is that okay?”

Bobby grumbled. “You go deal with your pet, I’ve got my own things to sort out.”

“Raincheck on that story?” Bobby nodded sharpish, and Dean grinned back. “You’re the best, Bobby. I’ll, um. Be right back. Maybe in a little while.” He cleared his throat, easing out of the room with Castiel tugging on the back of his shirt.

They ran to the bathroom, and Castiel slammed the door behind them, throwing Dean up against the wall. The growl ripped from both their throats like thunder, Castiel ferocious as he took Dean’s ear in his mouth, gnawing, one hand clasping Dean’s face, one shoved under his shirt.

“Couldn’t―” Dean barked, caught off guard as Castiel changed sides, incisors grazing his jaw as he made his way to grab Dean’s ear between his teeth. “Couldn’t you control it?”

“I’ve never felt this urge,” Castiel whispered, nose pressing Dean’s cheek, breath coming fast, hips stuttering, then bumping at Dean’s hip. “It’s terrible, this feeling, this... need, I need it, I need... Dean!” He growled so heartily that the hair stood up on the back of Dean’s neck, both of them sighing as Castiel sank his teeth ever so lightly into the skin of Dean’s throat, not even enough to hurt. “Oh, Dean, I need this, I just want... I’m so hungry.”

“‘s called being horny,” Dean told him, chasing Castiel’s ears back a few steps, seeing them as the goal, wanting his mouth on them. “We get that, we kitties. Need this shit. Gotta fuck, gotta jizz, need to bite somethin’―”

Castiel bared his teeth, shoulders squared as he battled Dean into the sink, rattling something loose inside the cabinet. Dean slapped his hands on the ceramic surface, panting already, so excited, wanting this as much as Castiel did.

“I love this game,” Dean whispered, groaning as Castiel nuzzled at his neck, saliva leaving a trail, teeth maybe leaving marks. “Oh, god, yes, do that, just like that...”

Castiel mouthed at Dean’s collarbone, teeth in his t-shirt for a second, tugging it until it slumped back, wrinkled, stretched. Dean parted his legs, wanting Castiel between them, wanting him to feel his arousal, feel what he did to him.

Castiel rutted at Dean for a few seconds, hands tight on his hips. Dean gasped, just wanting his legs open, thinking _open me, fill me, mate with me_ , but he didn’t say a word of it, it wasn’t allowed, it was impossible. He was scared, but he still wanted to push this, take as much of it as he could get.

Now that he’d thought it, his head ran with a barrage of the same word, over and over - _mate, mate, mate. Mate me, fuck me, fill me_.

All he could do was whine, letting Castiel ravage his ears with gentle teeth, playing at violence. Hands thumped at his thighs, spreading him; he wanted that too, he wanted Dean open for him.

Why were they cursed to be like this? Want, can’t have. Can’t take, can’t give.

“I wanna see it,” Dean sighed, rolling his head helplessly against Castiel’s forehead, wrapping his tail around Castiel’s thigh. “I wanna see you.”

Castiel bit Dean’s nose, then edged away, breathing hard. “What part?”

“Between your legs,” Dean said, thrusting a hand under Castiel’s t-shirt, finding his nipple with his fingers. He’d seen him topless before, but never like this, not when his nipple was hard and pointed and wrinkled.

“My sex?”

Dean nodded, growling as he lurched off the side of the sink, backing Castiel up, crowding him until he thumped into the opposite wall, bumping his shoulders, then his head, giving a sigh, a groan.

“See you naked,” Dean whispered, mouth lingering open over Castiel’s jaw, not allowed to kiss. “See what it looks like. Fuck, Cas, I wanna see it. Gets me hot just thinking about it.”

“You’re not allowed,” Castiel pleaded, questioning, like he _wanted_ to break the rules but first had to remind himself that they were there, reminding himself there was in fact something that existed that could be broken. “Dean, males can’t... we can’t do that.”

“I know,” Dean growled, cursing under his breath. “Cas, I know, I just wanna see it so bad, I don’t even know why, I mean - you probably look like me, just different, but I... fuck.” He swallowed, hands grappling with the crumpled hem of Castiel’s shirt. “It’s hot, right? The thought of it?”

Castiel nodded, eyes hooded. “Think I want to show you.”

“C’mon,” Dean encouraged, backing up, not touching any more, arms open. “C’mon, show me.”

Castiel’s hands trembled, but he shook the tremble off, eyes on Dean as he put his fingers to the button of his jeans. Dean pounded inside and out, a spot of wetness in his underwear, eyes locked on the man who was looking at his own crotch now, thinking.

“C’mon,” Dean whispered again. He licked his lips.

Castiel took each side of his jeans’ opening, and parted them. His manhood protruded from his boxers, pink and thick, and Dean wilted at the sight of it; arousal was coursing in his blood, weakening his bones. He groaned, fell to his knees.

Castiel’s fingers ran his length, pushing the boxers until they tucked under his scrotum.

“Fuck,” Dean muttered, shaking his head to himself. “Too many bad things...”

Castiel’s cock was fat, meaty, his foreskin wet as precome trailed down the side of it, milky and slow. Veins stood out, the stiffness curved very slightly towards Castiel’s middle, the whole thing standing at attention, pointing halfway to the ceiling.

Dean saw it and he wanted it in his mouth. If that wasn’t fucked up, he didn’t know what was.

“Dean, play with it,” Castiel begged, hands pressed flat to the back wall. “Play with me.”

Dean crawled forwards, eyes on the prize. “Never... _never_ tell anyone.”

“Dean, I’ll never tell another soul, you know I won’t, I can’t...”

“I think I can suck it,” Dean whispered, considering the man before him like he was a devil, temptation carved into his very being. “Put it in my mouth and suck?”

“Is... Would that be like mating?” Castiel asked, a tremor in his voice. “With your mouth?”

Dean undid his own jeans and put his hand inside, still looking at Castiel’s desperate face. His own cock’s weight filled his hand, hot and sweet, pulsing with a corrupt desire. “Pretend mating. Like a game.”

Castiel seemed unsure. “Dean, it can’t―”

“Gonna suck it,” Dean said, decided. He crawled into Castiel’s space and looked at his member, crazy thoughts about how delicious that liquid must taste, about how many females in the world had shared their mouths with their mates.

“It wouldn’t be kissing, your lips wouldn’t meet,” Castiel muttered, his panting breaths unsteady.

“Can’t kiss you. I can’t,” Dean whispered, exhale ghosting over Castiel’s cockhead. Castiel tipped his head back and moaned, hips thrusting into nothing. Dean let him thrust into _him_.

Tasted sour. Like insanity. So hot, full - oh, god, so full―

He backed off, coughing, looking up at Castiel in wonder. “Oh my god.”

Castiel trembled. “More. Again, Dean that was... I can’t describe it, it was...”

Dean groaned as he sank his mouth down again, eyes closed. He sucked. It made a wet noise, and he got precome on his face as he sank lower. He put his tongue against it, could feel the silk-light touch of Castiel’s foreskin on his tongue. Wetness under it, the salt washed up by Dean’s lapping.

Castiel shrieked, and Dean pulled off, alarmed. “What is it?”

“Shh- Shit, Dean, your tongue. The tiny barbs, it―”

“Crap, sorry, that’s gotta hurt―”

“No! No, it’s... wonderful, please, just do it again. Lick me.”

“Groom your... cock?”

Castiel met his eye and nodded, a crazy, wandering light in his eyes. “I want such bad things, Dean, I don’t know how to stop...”

Dean shook his head, not bothering to question it. He wanted it too, so he began again. He groomed Castiel’s cock like he did for his ears, taking away every bit of liquid and swallowing it down, leaving Cas’ soft skin bare, pinkening even more, excited by the sensation of his tongue. He followed its length to the base, where he took Cas’ balls in the dip of his gentle tongue, then groomed his pubic hair.

He lifted Cas’ t-shirt and groomed up, then sank down, groomed between his legs as Castiel leaned his shoulders back against the wall, parting his legs, shoving his boxers and jeans down. Dean tasted the musk, more potent than he knew it from Castiel’s usual plain scent, this time flavoured by his emissions, new fluid leaking out in tiny pulses.

Dean tasted it all, finally going in to suck the whole thing down, fearless of the bump as it pressed into his throat. He pulled away fast, narrowly avoiding the instinct to gag, but was proud he’d had all of Castiel’s sex inside him, nose pressed to Castiel’s hip bone.

Castiel had mated with his mouth. Fucked up. Satisfying. Wanted more.

Castiel didn’t let him. “No. No more, I love it but I can’t, it’s bad, we shouldn’t.”

Dean nodded quickly, understanding, searching for air to breathe as he stood up on shaky legs. “Should pl- play that again, sometime.”

Castiel released a shaky laugh, shoving himself into his underwear, still hard, buttoning up his jeans, zipping them. He returned to biting Dean’s ears, crotch pressed to Dean’s open jeans, where Dean had never pulled himself free. Castiel was still fucking _hard_ , and Dean didn’t know how he would even bear that. The pressure would drive him mad, surely.

“Stop now,” Castiel breathed, patting a hand on Dean’s chest, pushing him gently. “We went too far.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, turning around, one hand rubbing his forehead, one grasping his cock through his underwear. “Fuck, I still need it.”

Castiel thumped the wall as he leant back against it. “Save it for next time.”

“I came once,” Dean said, turning to look Castiel in the eye. “I was grooming you, sitting on you, and then when you started grooming me I... god, I came in my pants.”

Castiel looked surprised; shocked, even.

Dean’s wicked grin sprung free for just a moment. “That was the only time I came while you were there. All the other times I had to get off by myself.”

“I only get excited at times when I’m grooming you,” Castiel admitted, touching himself, eyes darting downwards every few seconds as he spoke. “When you do it to me, I’m just blissful.”

“Should’ve kept playing that game, the easy one.” Dean swallowed, feeling weary, his need to experience pleasure buried under the need to experience _Cas_. “This game’s not so fun.”

Castiel nodded, distracted. Dean did up his own jeans, thumb brushing his erection regretfully.

“Bobby will want to see you,” Castiel said. “I’ll go to my room, I should be researching.”

“I’ll stay in here.” Dean gave a weak smile. “I need to get off, I can’t see Bobby like this.”

Castiel nodded, hand already on the door, turning the handle. He paused for a moment, looked back at Dean, and then left. Dean watched him go.

Dean realised then that one day soon, they either needed to stop this, or move onwards, taking it further. Right now they were at a stalemate.

For the first time, Dean took no joy or satisfaction in feeling himself come into his own hand.

◆◇◆◇◆

****

**Chapter 5**

Dean went right up to his bedroom door to let Castiel in this time, closed it carefully behind them. Locked it. Nobody else was home, but Dean felt safer behind a locked door.

Castiel was nervous, and had every right to be. He turned back to Dean, eyes not locking steady. “Dean, are you sure this is right?”

“Do you want this?”

Castiel nodded, eyes down. “It’s terrible, I know, but yes. Maybe we’re both ruined.”

Dean patted Castiel on the arm, heading for the bed, tail swaying behind him. “I don’t think I even care, you know? I don’t think mating with a girl would ever be this exciting.”

“Dean, we’re not going to mate,” Castiel said, firmly. “We can’t do that, that’s...”

Dean paused, a hand halfway up to reach for his shirt to pull it away. “I know,” he said. “Not gonna mate. Just... a game. Our secret little - little game.”

Castiel nodded a few times, trying to convince himself.

Dean let his shirt fall to the floor, puffing up a sparkle of dust. It shone in the golden sunlight, which lit up the side of the room with the bed, the sheets drenched in its colour. “It’s just playtime, Cas. We’re just two guys who... you know, like playing sometimes.”

“Rough-and-tumble,” Castiel agreed, coming forwards at last, quickly removing his black t-shirt and putting it on the floor alongside Dean’s. “We can maybe just go... as far as making each other excited, and then we’ll stop.”

Dean was hesitant to agree to that. “I’m sick of that, Cas.”

“We did that twice.”

Dean nodded. “Two too many times. It’s fun and all, ramping it up, the biting and whatever, but―”

“No, I like it,” Castiel said. “I like when you make me hard and then stop.”

Dean shucked his jeans and stood there naked, glad Castiel was looking, but Dean was not feeling satisfied by just a look alone.

Castiel’s breath was wobbly, eyes lingering on Dean’s cock, which seemed intent on getting started.

“Okay,” Castiel said, lapping his tongue over his lips. “Okay, all the way this time.”

Dean sighed in relief. “What changed your mind?”

Castiel smiled. “I worked out how we can mate without mating.”

“How?”

Castiel unbuttoned his jeans and kicked them away, his legs long and pale. Dean almost moaned when he saw them, seeing the dark hair on them, the trail of thicker hair that ran from Castiel’s navel to under the band of his boxers. Eyes on Dean, Castiel hooked his thumbs under the band, and ever so slowly slid them to the floor, then toed them off.

He stood tall again with a tiny sigh, his cock halfway up, his tail fluffy and gently swaying, touching the backs of his legs. Dean’s own cock twitched at seeing Castiel displayed just for him, the sun on his back, colouring his skin gold, his eyes brighter than ever, dark hair and wide shoulders framed by a halo that rebounded like an aura.

“Fuck,” Dean whimpered, shoulders slumping.

Castiel stepped forward, and Dean just waited for him to enter his space before he leaned to bite his jaw, then lick him over the soft bite. Then he took Castiel’s ear in his mouth and sucked, just like he had for his cock. Castiel groaned, a hand pressing to Dean’s flat stomach. Dean put a hand over that hand, fingers twining around the side of it as he nibbled the tip of Castiel’s ear.

“Come,” Castiel whispered, an open hand on the back of Dean’s neck. Dean could feel his heat, and he was hotter than he’d ever been before, Dean would swear by it. Dean followed Castiel’s guidance, watching the other man crawl backwards onto the bed, never taking his hand off Dean. Dean locked eyes with him and crawled with him, front-to-front, not touching bodies, but almost.

“I’ll show you what to do,” Castiel said, voice gentle. His tail slunk slowly across the bed sheets, and Dean realised he was pulling back the top sheet. “Under the cover.”

They broke apart as Dean followed the instruction, wafting the white cotton over both of them, another screen of privacy between them and the world. The sun was on them, filtered through the sheet like a dream; orange-yellow, warm, nearly humid.

Castiel was hard, and Dean could barely stop looking at the perfect shape of his arousal; his sex was obvious, thick line of muscle on his hips, erection between the dip of his muscular legs. Dean breathed out, eyes roaming like a caress back up, lingering on Castiel’s nipples, seeing a freckle above one that he’d never noticed before.

Castiel was smiling when their eyes met. “Come,” he said again, and beckoned Dean closer.

The sheet dragged Dean’s ears, and he became its tent pole as they both knelt up, their weight on their knees. Dean pushed himself to Castiel, guided by the warm, gentle hand against his lower back.

Dean liked where Castiel’s hands went. One hand returned to the back of his neck, while the one on his lower back rubbed up and down, slinking into the curve of his spine, fingertips bumping over the bones. Dean closed his eyes, groaning under his breath as he rested his chin on Castiel’s firm shoulder.

“What now?” Dean whispered.

Castiel didn’t say anything, just rocked forwards. His hips grazed Dean’s, their cocks jutting together in an almighty shudder of sparks, a gasp bolting its way out of Dean’s mouth in pleasured shock. Dean made it happen again, humping once, twice.

It was obvious, it was just like they’d tried to do before, get inside each other, trying to rub. But this time they were naked, and Dean was starving for it; his hands grabbed for Castiel’s ass, adoring the wholeness of it in his palms. He pushed forwards, hauling his weight into the other man, grunting loud, head falling back at the sensation.

Castiel’s breath stuttered, a tiny purr breaching his lips. “Oh... Dean.” The hand around the nape of Dean’s neck curled further, thumb fuzzing at his hair. “Oh, Dean, just... yes.”

Dean smirked, moaning under his breath. Castiel’s cock was hot metal up against his own, soft as sin and somehow slippery, easy to slide on. Dean’s own cock jabbed at Castiel’s midriff, catching in his pubic hair, too dry.

Castiel, without warning, shoved Dean backwards. He bounced on the mattress, growling in surprise as his tail was flicked to the side, the sheet falling in his face. He raised his hands to lift the sheet, eyes locking to Castiel as Castiel crawled over him, raising the sheet off Dean. Dean grinned, not knowing what was to come, but enjoying seeing Castiel’s sex hang low, the tip of it bumping Dean’s cock as it lined up.

Dean’s thoughts were all of mating. He wanted that thing _inside him_. He wasn’t female, so that thought was wrong in so many ways. But he did. He saw it and he wanted to rub on it, have it close to him. Have Castiel close to him.

His eyes flicked back to Castiel’s startling blue gaze, and Dean shuddered as Castiel lowered himself on top of him, their thighs separating each other, Castiel’s member a too-hot heat between Dean’s parted legs, throbbing on his own aching thickness.

Dean sighed, eyes closing as his head fell back. He groaned, a long sound that vibrated in his throat, and realised a second later it had come out a purr. He grinned, loving the tiny mutter of joy Castiel let out against his neck.

Dean let Castiel do what he would; he took his thighs and pulled them apart, experimenting with how slow and how fast he could rock against him. Dean cried out, hands in Castiel’s hair, pulling his ears. Shit, he loved it. He loved Cas being so in control.

Castiel pushed Dean’s legs up, and his knees were suddenly beside his ears. He peered at Castiel, delighted to see dark eyes, parted pink lips. Castiel breathed steadily, but his breaths were laboured with excitement. Dean bubbled with internal tremors, air rushing into him as Castiel dragged himself slow and gradual between Dean’s open legs.

It was so close to mating. So fucking close. Dean sank blunt fingers against Castiel’s back, wishing Castiel could get closer. “Want it,” Dean murmured. “Cas, I want you so bad...”

Castiel grunted, open-mouthed against Dean’s ear, upper lip rolling on his fur. “You have me.”

“No... want more,” Dean sighed, groaning again as Castiel’s pre-ejaculate slicked his perineum, made it easier for Castiel to slide. He was going faster, Dean’s hips bumping him, both of them desperate for it. “Want you.”

“You have me,” Castiel said, again, a lilt of confusion in his voice. “Dean, I can’t give you more... even... _ohh_ \- even what we’re doing now is bad, there’s no more―”

“Mate,” Dean panted. “Mate with me.”

Castiel gave a soft chuckle. “You know I can’t.”

“Cas, I want to. So fucking bad.”

Castiel’s thrusting slowed - bump-bump-bump, bump... bump.

“Dean.” Castiel swallowed, his throat tightening against Dean’s shoulder. Dean whimpered at the loss of sensation, his cock throbbing with need, and something lower down in him felt empty, craving something, craving _mate, mate, mate_.

“Let me up,” Dean said, forcing himself up on his hands so he sat with his legs apart now, Castiel kneeling between them, his thighs tucked under Dean’s. Dean breathed against Castiel’s jaw, feeling his eyelashes drag his cheekbone. “Cas, fuck me.”

Castiel shook his head.

Dean closed his eyes. “Pretend. It’s pretend.”

“That’s all you want?”

Dean nodded, licking his lips. “I just like saying it. Fuck me. Fuck me. Oh, god...” Dean rushed with pleasure, face heating, just from hearing himself say those words. “Cas, fuck me, please.”

Castiel growled, teeth open on the muscle of Dean’s shoulder. He bit down, and Dean gasped, breathing out another litany of _wanna mate, mate me, fuck me._

Dean hauled himself over, muscles taut, muscles relaxed, bending and pulling himself until he was in the same position as before, only this time he had his back to Castiel, legs open with the fallen angel kneeling at his ass. Dean could feel the heat of Castiel’s cock between his buttocks, and he bit his lip, crazy about that feeling.

Just having his legs open was hot as hell.

Castiel lay over Dean, and Dean wailed out a bold, glad sound, loving the weight over him. Heavy, pressing him into the mattress.

Castiel shushed Dean with a bite on his ears, teeth lingering as he began to rock. Dean twisted his head so Castiel’s teeth slid off him, and Castiel bit again, Dean grunted and let him bite, turned his head and forced Castiel to bite another place, over and over.

The cock against his ass slid sweetly; it felt filling in its thickness, strange in the way it parted his flesh, pushing against him but unable to enter him. Castiel smelt like sex, pleasure; his weight was the same as his scent, but made real, corporeal.

Dean bucked back, finding the space to lift his hips, so his cock was away from the mattress, and every other part of him bore the weight of both him and Castiel. They both curled out a dirtied sound every now and then, Dean’s fingers clawing the sheets. He was burning hot like a fire, but the embers in him still starved for more of that flame.

“Mate,” Dean said. “Mate with me.”

Castiel bit his ears. That was something done during mating, Dean had seen it done in videos, but it wasn’t real mating. He wanted it to be real.

“Cas...” Dean groaned, flashing with desire, desperation. A sudden burst of frustration sought every limb in his body, and he bit the sheet under him with fast teeth. “Cas!”

Castiel made a low noise against Dean’s throat, a hand cupping the part of Dean’s neck that was stubbled. Teeth touched, then moved away.

“Cas... come on, just... do it, mate with me, please. Just once. Just once, I want it.”

Castiel’s humping slowed again, Dean heard his head tilt against the sheet above. “Dean, are you still playing?”

Dean hesitated. He wanted it for _real_.

“Heh. Yeah. Yeah, still playing, come on.” He thrust his hips back, Cas’ cock driving slick against him. “C’mon, fuck me.”

Castiel gingerly picked up his pace again, a groan tumbling out of his mouth as he hit a good speed, a rhythm the same pace as Dean’s heart. Dean’s toes were clenched, his fingers fisted in the sheets. He had to keep his eyes closed, wanting everything too much.

“Mate with me,” he breathed, lips on his own fist. Castiel couldn’t hear him, he hoped. Dean didn’t want Castiel to know how bad he wanted it - what they were doing was sinful enough. “God, Cas, wanna mate. Wanna be yours.”

Castiel’s hips stuttered, a soft noise like a moan coming from his chest. A slow purr began, deep, but it didn’t last more than a few seconds. Dean whimpered as Castiel stopped, wishing he would vibrate like that against him.

“Purr,” Dean begged. “Please purr.”

“Can’t,” came Castiel’s reply, as he sighed against Dean’s ears, giving them a firm bite, then a lick. “Too excited.”

Dean grinned for a second, happy Castiel was as affected by their acts as he was. Dean was leaking onto the bed sheet, unable to touch, but okay with letting himself ache, enjoying the throb and the underlying need for more, keeping him hungry. But he felt famished, horny beyond _horny_ , wanting soul-deep connection.

“Cas,” he whined, loud enough for Castiel to hear. “I need to mate with you. Mate... please... mate with me...”

Castiel groaned, growled, yowled against Dean’s back, forehead to his shoulder blade. “Dean... are you playing?”

“Yes,” Dean whispered. “But I - fuck - Cas, I still want it. I wanna play for real.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Wanna be mates, but pretend. Mate with me but it’s not real. Just... God, I need it.”

Castiel was shaking his head, nose bumping Dean’s back. “Dean, I don’t―”

“Bite me,” Dean said. “Bite me _there_.”

Castiel’s breath hitched, hands tight on Dean’s hips, rhythm faltering. “Just pretend?”

Dean nodded quickly, eyes shut tight. He didn’t care, he wanted it. “When we’re alone we can play it - just a game, right? Like this.”

Castiel breathed out, like he was steeling himself. “It’s secret.”

Dean nodded again. “Never tell anyone.”

He waited, trying to enjoy the feel of Castiel sliding on him, feeling the soreness and sensitivity of his own skin, just waiting... waiting for Castiel to decide.

The pace ramped up, Castiel got furious with his hips, Dean crying out and curling up against the bed, almost sure he would come untouched, just at the feel of Castiel playing this game with him, fucking him like this.

But then it happened. Teeth tugged at the skin at the back of Dean’s neck, not enough to hurt, not enough to pull, but enough to let him know they were there, and what it meant.

Mating. Scruff. Bite.

Dean came, devoured by the thought of Castiel having wanted this, wanted it just like he did. He loved this game more than any other game in existence, never wanted to stop playing.

Castiel groaned, the sound hurling though Dean’s skin via the back of his neck, the nub at the top of his spine being licked by Castiel’s tongue, teeth still on him.

Dean almost felt like crying with relief; the pressure was gone, lifted away just by the feel of Castiel’s possession on him. Mated.

No... pretend mated. There was a difference. It wasn’t real, just a game.

Dean tried not to feel disappointed, but held on to the feeling of satisfaction. Games were good. They meant he could get what he’d desired for so long and didn’t have to taint Castiel with his ugly fantasies. Dean felt wrong inside, but couldn’t bring himself to dwell on that, not right now.

“Oh, Cas,” he breathed. “Mhhh...”

He heard the wet slap of skin, Castiel’s cock no longer between his ass cheeks. Dean, with his limbs heavy, turned himself over, shaking as he took his weight on his hands and flipped. With his legs around Castiel again, he shifted up close, close enough that Castiel’s balls could rest their plump softness just below Dean’s navel.

Castiel was looking down, hand on his cock. Dean put his fingers crookedly under his chin, lifted his face to meet his eye.

Castiel’s face was indiscernible. Happy, sad, satisfied, Dean couldn’t tell. For a strange, helpless moment, he thought about kissing him. But no, no - that was wrong. So badly wrong he’d never come back from it.

“We gotta do that again sometime,” Dean said, eyes on Castiel’s cock now, helping him with his hand. “Pretend to mate? Feels good, right?”

Castiel nodded, forehead touching Dean’s. “Yes, I like mating with you.”

Dean licked his lips, guilt still churning his gut. “It wasn’t... _real_ , was it?”

Castiel glanced up, their eyes meeting from an inch apart. The heat under the sheet was stifling now, the scent of Dean’s orgasm sharp in the humidity.

Dean swallowed. “I mean,” he explained, “I’ve watched mating videos, they’re all...” He twisted his hand on Cas’ cock, making Castiel sling his arms around Dean’s shoulders, hauling their torsos flush. “They all show the guy putting his thing in the girl, then biting, right?”

Castiel shrugged, and Dean chuckled, finding the ex-angel’s obliviousness endearing. Dean knew he’d seen kitties mating before, so maybe Castiel’s shrug was just avoidance of the question, unwilling to admit he’d watched more matings than Dean.

“But I’ve had sex before,” Dean continued, lifting a hand to his mouth and licking it, before returning it to Castiel’s cock, pleased at the new slickness. “And sex isn’t mating unless there’s the bite. And... Cas―”

Dean stopped his hand on Castiel’s cock, unable to meet his eye. “Cas, we just had sex. And you bit my scruff. I think we mated for real.”

Castiel purred, and Dean glanced up in shock. Castiel swallowed the purr down, eyes cast away as he slid his own hand back to curl on his cock, around the back of Dean’s knuckles, squeezing.

“You liked it?” Dean whispered, looking questioningly at Castiel. “It’s... Cas, it’s just playing, c’mon. You like me _saying_ we mated for real, right?”

Castiel didn’t meet his eye, but nodded, a tiny quirk on the corner of his lips. “Still playing.”

Dean nodded in relief, returning to pumping his tight fist on Castiel, thumb dipping into his foreskin and pressing at the head. “I think this was the best game so far. You got me off, that was pretty great.”

“Mm.”

Dean had no idea if they’d mated for real. He liked pretending they did. And he liked pretending to Castiel that they didn’t, that it was just for fun. His head was all in a game zone, and he wondered what reaching the winning square would entail.

Dean rested his cheek against Castiel, his free hand stroking his bicep, sliding all the way down until he found Castiel’s tail, and he pulled it, kept pulling until Castiel yowled. Dean laughed, falling back as Castiel snarled over him, teeth showing, but he stopped when he saw Dean laughing.

Dean rolled them over, happily straddling Castiel, setting Castiel’s cock between his ass cheeks again, one hand behind him to help rub against it. He watched Castiel’s eyelashes flutter, watched his lip tuck under his teeth, tongue lapping at it.

“Mating,” Dean said, changing his angle so he could feel Castiel’s cockhead nudging his anus. “I never did it before just now.”

Castiel groaned, and Dean only realised he was about to come after a splatter of heat slid on his lower back.

“Oh, man,” Dean whispered, leaning down, twitching a ear close to Castiel’s racing heart. “If that’s the sound you make when you come...”

He grinned, exhilarated.

Castiel gave a guttural growl, and Dean was thrown off him, and then all at once, Castiel was behind him again, this time at his back, tongue against his spine.

Dean moaned as he felt Castiel licking his own wet orgasm away, purring as he swallowed it down.

Dean just trembled, palms sweating as he clenched his hands into fists. Castiel’s tongue was rough on skin, rasping and feeling wide, spreading out. His purr was unbelievable; intense.

When Castiel was done, Dean turned over, and Castiel slunk over him, lay on top of him. His navel was pressed to Dean’s spent cock, and Dean saw Castiel’s smile as they both felt Dean’s useless twitch.

Castiel’s head and velvet ears kept the sheet up, and Dean started stroking those ears when Castiel put his chin down to Dean’s tummy. By the time Castiel closed his eyes, blissed out, Dean realised he was purring too.

They lay there, changed position a few times, Dean always the one lain on, lain around, curled against. Castiel wanted to be close, and Dean wanted him even closer but didn’t want or know how to ask.

Dean napped in his arms, woke to the feel of Castiel grooming his ears, still purring.

Castiel groomed Dean’s throat, his nipples. Dean laughed at first, tickled by it, but soon was as turned on by that as he had been when Castiel purred. When he did both at once, Dean came.

Castiel cleaned up his mess, then had Dean groom him until he came, too. And Dean didn’t need to be asked before he licked up Castiel’s discharge, like it was a treat. Dean loved it, wished there was more.

They lay there for another hour, until the rectangle of sun left the room behind. Naked, purring, spent and happy, they talked a little. Dean never mentioned playing, or games, but he wanted to. He realised he maybe might get off just as much to the thought that it was all a big secret, as he did the fact that he’d maybe mated with Cas.

They heard the front door slam sometime in the early evening, and in a panic, they both got dressed in silence, tip-toeing to the door. Dean went straight in the shower, Castiel said he’d go in right after Dean was done. It was only as they sat together later, eating dinner with Bobby and Sam, that Dean realised they’d put on the wrong shirts. Nobody seemed to notice but him.

◆◇◆◇◆

****

**Chapter 6**

They stayed up late, the next night. Dean made his excuses about having more research to do, even though Sam, master of all things research, could find no more to examine. Castiel said he was determined to help, and Sam just smiled and agreed, said it would be good for Cas to brush up on his research skills.

It seemed a bit too easy, but Dean didn’t even consider that Sam might know what they were really doing.

They actually did do some research, keeping their cover for a good long while, until Dean was certain Sam was in bed and asleep.

Then, when he heard an owl outside, and the trees were rustling the moonlight into ragged shapes across the kitchen floor on the other side of the library, Dean shut the book. He put it down on the coffee table, sank back into the sofa with his hands palm-to-palm between his parted knees.

He smirked at the floor, sensing Castiel staring at him.

“What is it, Dean?” Castiel asked, his tail curling around Dean’s.

Dean didn’t want to say just yet, honestly enjoying having Castiel’s tail around his. It was like holding hands.

But finally he found he was unable to think of anything else, so he went ahead and said, “I want to play that one game, the one we played before.”

“Which?”

Dean tipped his head toward Castiel, nosing at his shoulder. “The one where I put you in my mouth. Sucked you a little bit.”

Castiel shivered, Dean felt it though his side. He smirked, wriggling closer, needing to separate their tails to get right up close.

“You wanna do that?” Dean asked, a hand sliding to Castiel’s crotch, just resting his cupped hand there, hoping he’d feel any reaction Castiel had. “All I’ve been thinking about is our games.”

Castiel swallowed. “Me too. And hunting, admittedly, and pasta at one point, but yes―” Dean laughed, as Castiel finished, “I like thinking about... playing.”

He sighed then, and looked Dean in the eye. “Aren’t you tired of having it be a game?”

Dean shook his head, frowning. “I like playing with you. Best games ever. Like, honestly - who else could I play with who would let me do these things, huh?” With that, Dean swung himself off the couch, sinking to his knees in front of Castiel. “God, I could play this forever...”

He unzipped Castiel’s jeans for him, his insides becoming a volcano of excitement as he watched Castiel’s partial erection spring free, no underwear there to constrict him. Dean murmured a pleased note and didn’t waste any time before going forward, taking it into his mouth.

Castiel pushed his hips forward, opened his legs in a V, put a hand in Dean’s hair to push him down again. Dean closed his eyes and vibrated, purring already, tasting the very first bead of precome as it seeped into his mouth.

Castiel leaned forward, and Dean was awkwardly edged under the other man’s stomach as Castiel began grooming Dean. Dean turned his head, purring as Castiel groomed his cheek, his nose, then back to his ear.

Dean took it slow while Castiel groomed distractedly, never staying in one place for long. Dean put his hand into his jeans and stroked himself, once moving to sit in Castiel’s lap, lifting himself so Castiel could taste him.

After then, he was back to the floorboards, happy to swallow Castiel’s length down, learning how to take the whole thing at once, still finding it difficult.

Castiel moaned more than Dean ever remembered him doing before; he always seemed quiet. But this time his head thrashed, his tail twitched, his hands tugged and pulled at Dean’s pointed ears.

Dean rocked his head against his cock until Castiel came, and Dean swallowed what he spilled on his tongue. Whatever was left over, he swept up with the side of his hand, and then he crawled into Castiel’s lap, seeing his dark eyes locked on Dean as he offered Castiel his white-smeared hand.

The feel of Castiel’s tongue barbs against his fingers, _sucking_ his fingers, had to be near orgasmic in itself. But all he could feel, all he could see in Castiel’s eyes, was potential for forever. He shouldn’t be thinking about it. It wasn’t just wrong and dangerous, it was... more than that. So much more, it meant _forever_.

There was a good reason nobody kissed unless it was a big deal. There were ceremonies around it, there were television shows based around the act. Important people made front-page news if they shared a kiss. Kissing was the ultimate bond.

The fact that Dean was thinking about it, when he and Cas weren’t really mated, and shouldn’t have even pretended in the first place - and on top of that, were both _males_... Dean had to be insane. He had to be.

He tried not think about it, but with Castiel’s mouth gasping and dragging on the back of Dean’s hand, his lips almost-but-not-quite meeting, Dean didn’t find he had much choice.

But if there was anything he would never, ever tell Castiel, it was that he wanted to kiss him. Castiel would end it right there. _Too far, Dean. Too far._

Dean got up on the couch, and Castiel turned him around, perking his ass up as he curled over the thick cushioned couch arm. Dean told Castiel not to take his clothes off, just make him come in his jeans. Castiel took that to heart, leaning down and _biting_ Dean’s ass. His hand was tugging his tail, fingering the underside of it under the fur, slowly leading up, up, until his finger wriggled through the tail hole of Dean’s jeans, and he knew where that finger was going.

Dean wasn’t wearing underwear, and Castiel was already aware of that. His finger slid to Dean’s anus and pressed, and Dean moaned, legs trying to spread but having nowhere to go, so he just knelt there, humping the arm of the couch. Castiel massaged him, pushing at the hole, finger dipping inside only the tiniest, tiniest amount, just inside the first little ring of muscle.

“You’re insane,” Dean hissed, hands tight on the couch, a light sweat breaking over him as the filthiest kind of pleasure erupted under his skin, making him want to just come, and keep coming, until white seeped out of the denim and Castiel could just lick it up out of his lap.

But he couldn’t come, too lacking in stimulation at the front, so ended up just humping, rubbing on the couch, whining as he fucked it, that one finger too tight and too little to finish him off.

He gave in the moment Castiel started purring - he was too heated by this, too frustrated with not having come yet. He unzipped and set himself free, delirious enough that he kept on fucking the couch, gasping as the material was rough against him, rougher than his jeans already were. His grip held firm to the cushion, and Castiel was forced to withdraw his finger as Dean’s jeans collapsed down over his hand.

“Fuuuck,” Dean moaned, eyes closing as his head fell back, feeling his foreskin shifted firmly as the couch snagged his skin, not enough to hurt but enough to burn a little.

“I can help,” Castiel said, low and beautiful in Dean’s ear from behind, a little nip of teeth on the tip as he spoke. “I can... assist.”

Dean groaned, leaning forward, an arm flailing as he just fucked, fucked, fucked―

A loud, bittle crash sounded from right in front of Dean, and he startled as he looked at the damage: one of Bobby’s lamps was destroyed, glass and metal collapsed across the floor where Dean had accidentally bumped it off its perch.

“Shit,” he complained, more for the sake of knowing someone would be down to see what was happening, than he was for the life of the lamp. In this house, or any place the Winchesters tended to go, lamps were not objects that fared well.

“You need to hurry,” Castiel said, warning in his voice. Dean heard Castiel’s own jeans being zipped up, and he puffed out a breath.

“Shit, they’re gonna see I’m hard―”

“No,” Castiel said. And with that, his teeth were on the nape of Dean’s neck, and Dean yelped, hands losing their strength, back writhing over Castiel’s shoulder, white spilling from his tip over his quick hand, moved there to catch his ejaculate, still in control enough to know Bobby wouldn’t appreciate a stained couch.

Racking in gasps, Dean collected himself enough to do up his zipper within seconds, getting to his feet and licking his hand clean, regretful that they didn’t have time to have Castiel lick for him; stomps were already coming down the stairs.

“Everything okay?” Sam asked, craning over the bannister and peering inside the library from beyond the dark hallway.

Dean nodded, clearing his throat. “Ye-huh. Just, uh, just knocked a lamp over.”

Sam squinted; Dean couldn’t see him clearly, but he knew him well enough that Sam was dubious. “How?”

Castiel shifted. “I knocked him.”

Sam was quiet, then said, “Huh.”

Dean folded his arms, trying not to let his ears twitch. “We’re gonna clean it up,” he said. “Like, right now. Go back to bed.”

Sam hesitated, but slowly started ascending the staircase again. “If you get the vacuum out for the glass, make it quick. Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Sam was gone, and Dean sighed in relief, his tail swaying uneasily. “Close one.”

Castiel just smiled, and went to start picking up shards of glass.

◆◇◆◇◆

“Oh, right there, right there,” Dean muttered, the back of his head thumping against the tiled wall. A long mewl escaped his throat, and he tried to swallow it back down, but Castiel didn’t let him.

“Make that noise again,” Castiel said, biting the underside of Dean’s throat. “You sound like you need it; I like that.”

“I do need it,” Dean snapped, parting his legs a little wider so Castiel could sink into him some more, cocks sliding and nudging alongside each other, jeans open, buttons catching. “God, Cas, I need it...”

“You sound good when you want something,” Castiel whispered, tender lips brushing the side of Dean’s face. “When you want―”

“Wanna play,” Dean finished, hand grasping Castiel’s trenchcoat collar, eyes barely open. “What do we call this one, huh? Where you rub on me?” Dean turned his face down, a pulse of heat leaving him and running a wet trail down the side of his cock as he saw what was presented: Castiel’s member, flushed and hard as anything, rutting against his own, cockheads leaking, shining. Castiel’s hands were firmly tangled in Dean’s leather jacket, their jeans slowly slipping down their hips as Castiel fucked against him.

“I don’t care,” Castiel growled back, a hand rising to grab Dean’s ear, pulling so hard Dean hissed. Castiel chuckled, a low growl rumbling under Dean’s clothes as Castiel put his teeth to his neck. They never hurt each other on purpose, but Dean did rather think Castiel got his rocks off on making Dean cry out. If pulling his ears made him do that, then Dean was willing to let Castiel pull.

“Shit - shit, Cas, lift my leg up―”

Castiel thumped Dean further up the wall, a hand under Dean’s thigh now, the other almost around his throat. The wind gusted through the half-open door of the abandoned bathroom; the air smelled like trees, like animals, and fresh rain that had fallen through the roof, the plants growing inside.

Dean’s eyes rolled up, a gasp forced from him as Castiel bit his collarbone, and at that, Dean fell into a weak line of expletives, all breathy, all begging Cas for more.

Dean begged now, apparently. He wanted it so much, loved it. Castiel made him protected when they did this, and Dean knew they’d be okay here; Sam was far away, not here yet. They had time for a quick game.

It was like playing cards while they waited. Except Dean’s pocket aces were two rough-touchin’ hands, and a nasty pair of incisors that really favoured a good nip.

He kind of liked when they mimicked violence, like the first time they bit each other. At that recollection, Dean shoved Castiel away. Castiel stumbled, his jeans sliding to his knees before he caught them, and looked up at Dean, scandalised.

Dean gave him a wolfish grin, biting his lower lip as he prowled forward. “You want a little rough-and-tumble? ‘cause I kinda do.”

Castiel stood up straight, defiant, but with a willing twinkle in his eye. Dean didn’t need the answer before he approached, and Castiel let him back him up against the opposite tiled wall, ivy crinkling at his sleeve. Dean leaned in, mouth open―

Fuck―

He drifted his mouth to Castiel’s jaw, biting softly, eyes still open in shock at himself.

He’d been ready to kiss, had been so ready and willing, he’d almost forgotten. He fantasised about it at night, he thought about it when he looked at Cas. Now he was getting too comfortable with those thoughts, too likely to make it a reality and then have reality come crashing down around him.

He licked Castiel’s neck, forcing his eyes closed, wishing he didn’t feel so haunted by what he’d almost done.

He wasn’t ready. No matter how much he wanted it - even if Castiel agreed, as if that were even possible, rather than laughable - Dean wasn’t ready for that responsibility.

He could handle the apocalypse. Been there, done that. Hell and back, literally.

Love, maybe not. He wasn’t ready. He was Dean Winchester, which meant that he’d never be ready for love.

Castiel growled, sighing at the end, turning his head to put a solid chomp against Dean’s left ear, ruffling the fur. Dean shoved him, and Castiel bumped his head slightly on the tiles. Dean winced, pausing to see if Castiel was okay. He only shoved him back, and Dean knew they were good.

“You think―” Dean snarled, laughing suddenly as Castiel tugged on his ear. “Think you’d ever surrender? With me? Let me fuck you?”

Castiel took Dean’s jaw in his hand softly, then thumped his head against his sideways, nuzzling, but roughly, headbutting, nosing him. Dean fisted Castiel’s t-shirt, brought him in close to bite his chin.

Castiel gasped and clawed Dean away, but Dean came up grinning, erection pounding where his jeans remained open. Castiel put one hand on his own belt, heaving them back up before they slipped.

“No,” Castiel said, looking Dean in the eye. “You like being... manhandled. I like manhandling you. It works.”

Dean gave an accepting shrug, then rushed Castiel again and pushed him to the wall, growling as Castiel swayed him, turned them so Dean had his back to the wall. His legs opened automatically, and yeah, maybe he got what Cas meant. He liked it too much.

“Just wanna fuck,” Dean sighed, a smile on the words. “When I’m alone with you, I like times when we go slow ‘cause we get to talk, but―” Dean lifted a leg and hooked it over Castiel’s ass, pulling him in, making their cocks bump, and Castiel started thrusting. “But I - fuck, love this. Crap, I’m gonna come.”

Castiel made an uncomfortable noise. “I didn’t bite you yet.”

“Bite every time?” Dean asked. “Not just sometimes?”

Castiel nodded. “Want to every time. It...” He shrugged, grabbing Dean by the jacket and turning him around, almost knocking Dean off balance completely before he was shoved face-first to the wall. “It makes me feel powerful again,” Castiel breathed, teeth sinking into the skin at the back of Dean’s neck. He caught some hair in the bite, which made Dean whimper, hands closing on nothing against the blue tiles in front of him. Pleasure came from this, though; Castiel in control, Castiel powerful, using him to feel that way.

Castiel licked the bite, then nosed it. “But that’s not the only reason,” he said, lips pushing the words to Dean’s skin. “I like making you purr. And making you orgasm.”

Dean laughed, edging his hips back, groaning as Castiel’s cock dipped between his buttcrack, and Castiel started to rub. “I like you doin’ those things too. C’mon, finish me off.”

Castiel moaned, and Dean almost ended at the sound. Castiel’s erotic sounds were hard-won, and Dean was proud of every moan, every whimper, because he was the only person who’d ever made the angel Castiel feel that way. Castiel compared his touch to the power of Heaven itself, and if that wasn’t a compliment, he didn’t know what was.

Castiel came before Dean, a spray of heat trickling down the small of Dean’s back as he rocked into Castiel’s hips, and all of a sudden those hips were replaced with hands, and the wetness under his shirt was replaced with tongue, hot and rough.

Dean waited until Castiel got lower, his hand tight on his cock to hold his release back. Waiting, waiting; lower, lower.

Castiel’s tongue sank to the joining of skin-to-tail, and Dean groaned as Castiel licked the base, then went lower, and Dean raised his tail up to give him access.

Castiel’s tongue rasped over Dean’s hole, and he left himself feel it, let the sensation of it fill him, and just like that, he painted the wall in front of him with white, looking down and taking satisfaction from watching it oozing down the tiles, thick in places and watery in others, collecting on the moss that used to be tile joiner.

“Good?” Castiel asked, teeth grinding side-to-side on Dean’s butt, just an extra indulgence to drive him mad.

“Yes,” Dean gasped out, a long vocalisation releasing along with the sigh he puffed to the drooping ceiling. He did his jeans up still facing the wall, pleased at the wetness of the single drop of come that still stuck to his cock, dampening his jeans. “Fuck, that was good.”

He turned around, expecting - _fuck_ \- lips on his own. He found himself disappointed, but he knew that was good. Castiel smiled at him, his sweet blue eyes innocent once more. Dean smiled back, reaching for him and pulling him into a hug, dragging his hand down his back.

Castiel gave Dean’s ear a final cheeky nip, and Dean harrumphed.

While they embraced, Dean closed his eyes and let his lips close, puckering lightly as he put a single, tiny kiss to Castiel’s trenchcoated shoulder. Castiel would never know, and Dean would never say anything.

◆◇◆◇◆

****

**Chapter 7**

Dean had been thinking about it all day. They’d just gotten back from a hunting trip, tired down to the tips of their tails, and every one of them was about ready to drop - Bobby was already in his room. Dean just needed a good wash, then he was good to sleep for maybe two days straight, given he’d been awake about that long, too.

His mind was a mess of wanting this, wanting that. Chiefly, he wanted a hot shower and a burger, but it was well past eleven at night, and there were no burger joints within ten minutes’ driving distance of Bobby’s house, which meant a burger was out of the question. If only he’d wanted a burger a few towns ago, while they were still passing by open diners, he’d have one in his stomach already.

Right now, in the absence of anything else, he was in want of a good fuck. He didn’t think it was a good idea to get going with Castiel right now; everyone was pooped, and Castiel had a gash across his forehead that needed seeing to. Sleep could wait, and sex was the last thing on the menu when someone had a head wound.

In any case, Dean still felt a coil of guilt whenever he thought of what he was doing with Castiel. Even with the secrecy of it, he knew it was wrong. And what he was _doing_ while they did it was even more wrong.

Castiel wasn’t naive enough to believe Dean didn’t want this - _him_ \- on some level, and a deep level at that. Castiel was giving it to him because Dean wanted it, but Dean couldn’t help but feel he was taking advantage of the fallen angel. It wasn’t always a game. But Castiel was being led to believe that a game was all Dean wanted.

Dean was on the fence about everything these days. Did he like men or just Castiel? Did he want Castiel to know he _like_ -liked him, or did he just get off on messing the guy around? Was he meant to use iodine or a good dose of Jack Daniels on the gauze?

In the end he took both the Jack and the iodine, hauling out a shot glass and pouring himself a drink and taking it like a bullet down his throat, before he refilled the glass and slammed it onto Bobby’s desk, glancing at Castiel to take it. Castiel leant his ass on the edge of the desk, one arm curled against his bruised shoulder as he tipped his head back and downed the shot, wheezing and pressing his chin to his chest as the burn got him.

“Good?” Dean asked.

After a second, Castiel put the glass down and nodded, eyes closed.

Dean wrapped bandages back and forth across his hands, knowing his should’ve washed his hands first, but was more concerned about the blood still seeping down Castiel’s head.

With cotton wool dipped in the iodine solution, Dean informed Castiel this would sting, then proceeded to dab the injury gently, causing Castiel to hiss, eyes slitted and teeth bared, mouth drawn up in an ugly snarl, tail twitching like a viper. Dean worked through it, knowing Cas would just let him get on with it no matter how bad it hurt.

When the blood was wiped away and Castiel’s forehead was sufficiently yellowed, Dean tagged the bandage around Castiel’s head, hushing his tiny mewl. “Shh, Cas, I got you,” Dean told him, tying off the bandage under Castiel’s left ear and sweeping his hand back through his greasy hair. “Go get some rest, we’ll deal with this in the morning. It won’t infect.”

Castiel muttered a soft noise, eyes closing. He looked so unhappy. Dean cupped his jaw in his sticky palm and leaned his head to his, butting their noses together. Castiel gave a weak, pained purr, and Dean smiled at the effort.

“Nice try, Cas,” Dean said. “You don’t have to pretend. You’re hurt but you can still be brave, looking like a dumbass with a bandage like that. You look like those eighties’ dance girls with the leg warmers and the bandanas.”

Castiel shot him a clueless blink, and Dean just grinned, nuzzling his cheek. Dean purred a little, letting Castiel feel the vibration.

“Dean, can I―” Castiel turned his face away to cough, his throat dry and sore. With a sigh, he returned his gaze to Dean. “Can I ask you for something?”

“Anything,” Dean said, smiling. “‘s what I’m here for.”

Castiel turned his chin down and smiled at Dean’s middle. “I want to scruff you. Just quickly.”

Dean laughed. “Wow, that turned to sex super-quick.”

“No, not sex,” Castiel said, putting a hand on Dean’s empty stomach. “Just... closeness. Belonging.”

Dean’s smile slipped away. “You mean like...” He knew what it meant, when scruffing was outside of sex. He’d never expected that.

“You mean like, like how mates do,” he said quietly, fingers fiddling with the handle of the first aid kit. He felt funny inside. Good funny, bad funny, maybe both. Scared, excited. “Biting the scruff without the mating, that’s like... real mates.”

Castiel swallowed, loud enough that Dean heard it. “It’s just pretend, isn’t it?”

Dean washed with relief, disappointment. He laughed softly, swinging his head as he dragged his finger around the rim of the shot glass. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. Pretend.”

Castiel looked up hopefully, and Dean met his blue eyes, seeing how calm he looked in the mellow light of the single remaining couch lamp, which sat over on the other side of the room, as well as the desk light that was heating the flat leather up under its glow.

Dean managed a smile. He felt good. “All right.”

Castiel’s gaze fell again, lips parting. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

Castiel pressed his lips together, shaking his head like he was shaking away a thought. “Nothing. I thought you’d say something else.”

“Other than yes? Come on, man, I’m not gonna deny a bleeding man his one request.” Dean smiled, sweeping his tail around the end of Castiel’s, giving it a tiny squeeze as they entwined.

“I thought,” Castiel said, looking at their joined tails, “you might’ve said it was real this time.”

Dean’s resolve faltered, but he didn’t let it crumble. “You don’t want to play this any more, do you?”

Castiel stared at their tails some more. Then he shook his head.

Dean lowered his eyes, hand suddenly slipping off the rim of the glass, tapping onto the table top. “Oh.”

“We can still play,” Castiel said, gaze only making it to Dean’s throat. “The game where we touch. Make love.”

Dean felt a delicious swirl of arousal at the words ‘make love’. Not just in his lower half, in his heart as well. It was what they’d always done from the start, because Dean loved Castiel.

“So what do you want now?” Dean asked, one nervous hand finding Castiel’s, fingertips shaking their way over the backs of his cold-reddened knuckles. He swept the touch downwards, finding the pulse point in Castiel’s wrist by mistake, feeling the throb of his heart, so in time with his own that it felt like his own doubled.

“Something real, just once. And then,” Castiel gave a breath-caught shrug, “we could go back to playing the game of it every time. Just this once I want to scruff you and have it mean what it’s meant to mean.”

Dean was nodding before Castiel was even done. “I want that. Do it, come on. Show me what it’s like for real.”

Castiel moved his arm off his own shoulder and set it against Dean’s cheek, cold hand on his blushing face. His fingers slunk upward, until they tugged at Dean’s ear, gentle and undemanding.

With a soft breath, Castiel put their foreheads together again, resting there for a moment before he walked, took two steps around Dean, face still in connection with Dean’s head, ears brushing as they turned around each other.

Now Dean was facing the desk, hands taking hold of it, then shifting to rest flat, palm-down, bracing for something - he didn’t know what. He felt Castiel’s breath on the back of his neck, the smallest lap of his tongue sending shivers down Dean’s spine.

He’d not felt that for so long. It had been desperate between them, Dean longing for the touch alone, but now, he longed for something more basic; Castiel to have him, pure and honest and...

Castiel sank his teeth across Dean’s skin, head turned to the side.

Dean’s eyes shut. He wasn’t turned on. He wasn’t about to blow his load because Castiel got his sensitive spot, the part that meant something as well as making him feel something.

Behind his closed lids, he saw a blind man’s Heaven.

“Uhhhh.” Sam’s voice shattered the harmony of everything, all in a single second. “Wow. Okay, I’m gonna―”

Dean and Castiel both turned their eyes on Sam, who was shuffling his feet backwards, duffel bag swinging awkwardly from one arm.

Horror coursed in Dean’s veins, but he was too disoriented to feel it. All he saw was _bad_ , reasons to escape, reasons to get out of here as fast as possible.

With his head down, he walked out of the room, sensing Sam’s face turn after him as he passed by. Dean didn’t spare a glance back as he went up the stairs, intent only on a shower, hoping for no thoughts in his near future about what Sam had just witnessed.

◆◇◆◇◆

Sam turned his eyes on Castiel, who ran a delicate, testing thumb across the bandage on his head. Dean had done his job well; the bandage would hold in place until morning, when they could deal with their problems with clear heads.

A clear head was definitely not what Sam had right now.

“Cas, can I talk to you?” he asked, not making eye contact.

“About Dean,” Castiel surmised. He gave a weary sigh. “Of course.”

Castiel went on wobbly legs to sit on the sofa, his tail almost dragging on the floor. His ears seemed droopy.

Sam rubbed a hand over his mouth, dumped the duffel bag and went to perch on Bobby’s desk, hands against its edge as he peered to his left, eyeing the dejected-looking Castiel.

Castiel didn’t speak, offering no information, so Sam resigned himself to having the conversation he’d been avoiding for months now.

“You and Dean.”

Silence.

Sam cleared his throat. “Are you mating?”

Castiel looked up in surprise, but still said nothing.

“Look,” Sam said, “It’s just that, a while back, Dean _reeked_ of mate scent, and there wasn’t a Busty Feline in sight, and the only person he was making eyes at was you.”

Castiel’s gaze dropped to the polished floor again, hands going to hold his knees, back straight.

“I mean, I don’t think he can smell your mating scent, because I can’t either; it’s an angel thing maybe.”

Castiel gave a miniscule shrug, which Sam took as confirmation of the fact.

“But okay, Dean was radiating sex like crazy - did you smell it?” Castiel nodded, and Sam smirked, triumphant. “After a good few weeks of that, something changed. First I thought, maybe you mated, friggin’ finally - but no, Dean was still wafting around his... eurgh.”

Castiel smirked a little, clearly not remembering the scent the same way as Sam did.

Sam sighed, bumping his shoulders up then letting them slump down. “And I was putting this here conversation off. For so long, I really was.” Sam chuckled, setting his hands together and resting them against his thighs as he perched on the desk. “I thought I’d be talking with Dean, but I think you might be more receptive.”

Receptive maybe; he was listening, but Castiel was also barely responding.

“Then it changed again,” Sam said. “You got really angry, you got pissed off at everything―”

“I remember, you don’t need to recount it,” Castiel said, testily. “I had some issues, Dean helped me work through them.”

Sam nodded, absorbing the information but not yet sparing a thought to what kind of issues Castiel might have meant. “Then it got easy. Dean smelled happier.”

Castiel smiled, Sam saw his eyes crinkle at the sides.

“Like, really happy,” Sam frowned. “Creepy happy.”

Castiel set his chin against his chest and let out a deep chuckle, barely a noise at all.

“All I’m wondering is... Okay, so I guess you’re mating now, given what I just saw.” Sam gestured to the spot where he’d seen Castiel scruffing Dean, teeth on the back of his neck, Dean’s face too blissed out for Sam’s comfort.

“We’re not mating,” Castiel said, obvious sadness on his tongue as he spoke. “Dean... has some kind of barrier, preventing him from seeing the reality of what’s between us.”

“Maybe the fact he can’t smell your mating scent has something to do with it.”

Castiel nodded. “He insists it’s a game. Wants to play. At first, I―” Castiel turned his face away, mouth open as he recalled a time past. “At first I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it a lot,” he admitted, eyebrows raising. “But there was always a point we’d stop before it became too real for Dean, and I liked that, it was - exciting, for want of a better word.”

Sam silently wished he _had_ found a better word; the word ‘exciting’ left too little the imagination.

“Then we mated,” Castiel said. “But it was a game. It’s been a game ever since the start, and I’m starting to wonder if Dean even has the―” his voice broke, “ _capacity_ for anything beyond the games. What you witnessed just now between him and me, that was so close - so _close_ \- to a reality. But he’s so stubborn!”

Sam grinned at Castiel’s exasperated last words, hands spread out. “Yeah.” Then he shook his head. “He has the capacity. He really does. He’s a scared, lonely man, Cas, and you’re the only person who can save him from that.”

“From himself.”

Sam nodded.

He paused, wondering if he really had the nerve to ask his next question.

He waited ten seconds, and when Castiel said nothing to break his reasoning, he gave in, and asked. “Have you kissed him?”

Castiel gasped, eyes locking with Sam’s. “What?! Why would you ask that?”

Sam winced, rolling a hand against his cheek. “I don’t mean it in a... Look, I’m not trying to pry. If you have, that’s fine―”

“We haven’t!”

Sam raised a gentle hand, trying to calm Castiel’s panic, worried he’d start bleeding through his bandage. “It’s okay, Cas. I just want to say...”

He trailed off, then forced himself to finish his point. “You and him. You dragged him out of Hell, you became friends, more than friends - brothers,” he said, a soft raise of his eyebrows accompanying the word. “Family. Then lovers. And you mean more to him than anyone, and,” he looked at Castiel with a knowing smile, “I’m pretty sure that he’s the same for you.”

Castiel didn’t need to give any reaction, because Sam already knew it was true. Everyone that had ever seen Castiel and Dean together knew how deeply they felt for each other. Castiel knew it, but maybe Dean didn’t.

“My point is, that if anyone were worthy of sharing a bond, an unbreakable vow that transcends every part of life and the veil beyond, don’t you think you two deserve that? To be able to know you each can depend on each other the way other people get to. A bond recognised by God Himself.”

Castiel swallowed, fingers twining together on his lap. “What are you saying?”

“You know what I’m saying.”

Castiel stayed quiet.

Sam sighed. “I’m saying, if anyone were worthy of a kiss, be it between unrelated two males or not, then you and Dean should be those people. I think you should kiss.”

Castiel’s head sank a little lower.

“Cas, you love him. More than God. And you were created, as an angel, for the _sole purpose_ of loving God. Which, directed at Dean, is a heck of a lot of love to have for one tiny kitty.”

A tear fell from Castiel’s eye, shining as it dripped into his lap. Sam didn’t have a reason to pretend not to see it; Castiel hadn’t meant to hide it. He felt no shame in his emotion the way Dean did, the way other kitties did.

“And Dean loves you,” Sam finished. “He might be hiding behind... games, but he wants this, I can tell without needing to talk, or sniff, or anything. He’s my brother, and I know what he wants, and he wants this.”

Sam got up, walked to the couch and sat down at Castiel’s side, petting him once on the knee. “He wants you.”

Castiel’s smile was weak and tired, but it was there. He gave a nod, and Sam knew his job was done.

“It won’t take him long,” Sam said, standing up again with a creak of battered bones. “I give it a day. Maybe less.”

“How can you be so sure of that?” Castiel asked Sam’s turned back as he headed for the stairs.

“It’s a secret,” Sam said, calling quietly over his shoulder, not wanting to wake Bobby.

He left Castiel behind, climbed the stairs.

On the top step, he kicked Dean in the thigh. “You’d better go hide, or he’ll come up and know you were listening,” he said quietly. “Besides, you stink, you need a shower.”

Dean grunted as he stood up. “Bagsies the last squirt of the good shampoo.”

Sam grumbled, but didn’t complain. Dean deserved it; he’d saved both their lives tonight, and by all calculations, was going to need to be very clean indeed, tomorrow.

◆◇◆◇◆

****

**Chapter 8**

Dean waited until he heard Castiel shuffle out of his bedroom, go down the hall to the bathroom, then head back to bed, before he went to knock on his door.

“Mmmfh,” came the reply to Dean’s knock, and with one arm around the steaming basin he carried, Dean opened the door and stepped inside.

Castiel was curled up with the blanket over his head, the tip of his tail dangling over the side of the bed. With a wicked smirk, Dean set the basin down on the nightstand and reached out a hand to grab the tail, giving it a gentle tug. He grinned when Castiel murmured again, sweeping his tail back under the blanket.

“Mornin’, Cas. I got you some fresh bandages and hot water and stuff.”

Castiel just gurgled and tugged the blanket further over him.

Dean slunk over the bed and put a hand on the blanket to pull it down again. Castiel let him; Dean now looked into the face of a bleary-eyed (but adorable) kitty. “Hey, cutie-pie.”

Castiel pulled a face that seemed somewhere between flattered and sarcastic.

With a chuckle, Dean moved his hand to touch Castiel’s head lightly; the iodine had yellowed the bandage but no blood had soaked through. Teeth gritted and with a sympathetic hiss on standby, Dean eased the bandage away, gauging Castiel’s expression for any sign of pain. Castiel just closed his eyes, and when the gauze came away, Dean relaxed.

“Damn, looks like you’ve still got yourself a little healing mojo, huh?”

Castiel looked surprised, but said nothing.

“All right,” Dean sighed, going for the cloth that was draped in the steaming basin of water. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Hold still.”

Castiel turned his head so Dean could access the scabbing gash; it remained clean, but Dean wanted to make sure Castiel was comfortable. He still needed a proper shower, his hair was matted with dirt and grease, but that could be done much later. Right now, Dean was just happy to hear the weak purr that Castiel managed as Dean stroked his head.

Dean sat at the edge of the bed for this, another towel eased under Castiel’s head to catch any water that slid down his face. Dean smiled when he felt Castiel’s bed-warm tail entwining with his own.

At last Dean deemed Castiel’s wound acceptably clean, and he dumped the cloth back into the basin with a plop. “Think we could leave it uncovered, it’s almost healed anyway.”

Castiel nodded, the tip of his tongue darting over his lip.

Dean ran the back of a hand gently over Castiel’s cheek, finding a soft purr within himself as he heard Castiel’s rumble heighten a little.

Castiel opened his eyes, slowly rolling his gaze over to Dean and giving him a warm smile. “Thank you,” he said.

“Not a problem, buddy.”

Castiel heaved in a breath, eyelids fluttering closed again. With a hand shoving his blanket down to his thighs, he turned his face and put a tiny bite on the inside of Dean’s wrist, a tender little mark that made Dean feel warm all over.

Dean’s eye flicked to where he saw movement, and his eyebrows raised in slight surprise as he saw Castiel edging his pyjama bottoms down, a decidedly firm erection rising off his hip.

“I knew my clean-ups were good, but _that_ good? Boy, that’s news to me.”

Castiel’s smile was devilish, his eyes only half-open, his gaze hovering between Dean’s eyes and his hands. Dean’s tongue lapped at his lips as he watched one of Castiel’s slim hands move to touch himself, fingers wrapping around his fleshy stiffness, giving one, two, three confident tugs.

“Uh, Cas, not for nothin’, but... you want me to...?”

Castiel gave an indecipherable reply, not quite a sigh, but it certainly didn’t answer Dean’s question. Dean hesitated, then stood up, rubbing the back of his head. Castiel could probably do with some alone time, right?

Dean knew he was just being a coward. He wanted to join the fun, but ever since last night, he was pretty sure that the closer he got to Castiel, the more Castiel might want to kiss. And that wasn’t even the issue. The issue was that Dean was _already_ aching for it, and the closer he got, the harder it would be to resist.

So he backed away, one hand reaching for the door. The sloped ceiling got taller the further from the bed he went, and by the time he heard Castiel’s wanton little mewl, he already had one hand on the door, ready to escape.

“Dean, where are you going?” Castiel asked, breathy. “I’m not finished.”

“Heh. Y- yeah, well, you like when you get excited then stop, right? Consider this me... going through with the stopping part.”

Castiel sat up in bed, his erection visible from where Dean stood, and his annoyed expression even more so. “Dean, get back here.”

Dean’s hand pressed to the door.

“Dean.” Castiel spread his legs, whipped his tail. He went into full bedroom-eyes mode, and Dean went weak at the knees. He was walking back to the bed without really being aware of it, and the dip of pleasure in his gut as Castiel began to lick one of his own fingers was nothing short of sensational.

Dean couldn’t will himself to get any closer after he sat down, though. Castiel seemed happy enough just to masturbate with Dean watching, and Dean’s dick felt much the same way on the subject.

Dean tilted his head, trying to watch exactly how Castiel used his thumb against his cockhead, and the precise way he fingered the underside of his member, the places he pressed, the places he let the skin drag.

Castiel’s eyes were on Dean, darkness in the centre of the ring of his azure irises, a filthy smile curling the corner of his lips.

“You like this?” Castiel asked, voice like smoke drifting over burning coal. “You really shouldn’t be watching this...”

Dean smiled, blindly going for the catch on his jeans, sinking his fingers under the band of his boxers to pry out his plumping cock. “You look good when you’re enjoying yourself,” Dean replied, huskiness tainting the words. “And your purr, man. Don’t stop doing that...”

The last request came out like a pleading whisper, and Castiel’s response was to amp up the low growl of pleasure escaping him, the purr becoming relentless, vibrating the bed under them both.

Dean’s toes curled in his boots, his tail swishing in excitement.

“ _Ah_ ,” Castiel puffed, fingers clutching the sheets, mouth opening. “I’m almost... mm...”

Dean took pleasure just from seeing Castiel doing this to _himself_. Dean barely needed to touch his own cock, and he was barely thinking about himself at all. He just purred along to the flush on Castiel’s cheeks, the stilted way he raised his hips from the bed, hand shifting on his length, grip steady.

“You got a real nice cock,” Dean told him, eyeing it hungrily. “‘s pretty.”

Castiel gave a dark laugh. “I don’t think genitalia are meant to be pretty.”

“They are when you want them,” Dean said. “And I like yours, so―”

Castiel whined, hips bumping upward, pyjama bottoms tangling around his knees. He made another muttered sound, then closed his mouth, a tiny delicate frown created between his eyebrows.

Castiel slid one hand upward on his chest, dragging his t-shirt up while he watched his own cock. Dean rushed with heat as he realised what Castiel was doing: clearing a space for him to come, just so Dean could lick it up.

Castiel lay back and spread his legs a little wider, and with two fingers pinching at a nipple, he watched the white spray spill over him, squirting up to his sternum, pooling in his navel. Dean couldn’t take his eyes off Castiel’s rapt, concentrated expression, nor the dents in his lip as he stopped biting it.

“Fuck...” Dean murmured, eyes feasting on the way Castiel sighed, swallowing as he relaxed, lifting his wet hand to his mouth to lick away what had dripped over his knuckles.

“Your turn,” Castiel said, flicking his eyes to the mess on his stomach, where Dean’s guilty little feast was waiting for him.

Dean gave in without a thought to resisting, and he craned his torso over the bed, shifting up to Castiel and lowered his mouth to him, lapping up the first taste of thick, sour ejaculate, the salt of it coating his tongue with a tangy burst that he felt in his teeth.

Dean turned his head and lapped again, taking in every droplet that met his mouth as he travelled from Castiel’s nipple down to his tummy. His eyes met Castiel’s, briefly, and a flood of raw sexual desire sank lower in Dean’s belly. He put everything he had into enjoying this, because he knew Castiel liked when he enjoyed it. Both of Castiel’s hands tugged at Dean’s ears, then one threaded through his hair. Dean lifted his mouth away from Castiel’s navel just to nose at Castiel’s hand, purring as Castiel petted him.

“You haven’t finished yet,” Castiel whispered, indicating the remainder of his come with a nod.

Dean swallowed, eyes set on Castiel as he put his chin against his navel. The liquid spread on his skin, and Dean purred harder at the feel of it messing up his stubble, its heat turning cool, but still remaining pleasurable.

Finally he closed his eyes and nuzzled Castiel’s hipbone, putting a miniscule bite there, giving a fast growl of satisfaction at the feel of the bone under the flesh. His tongue took up the last of Castiel’s emissions, the sticky fluid settling in the centre of his tongue.

Castiel made a soft noise, and before Dean could swallow, he glanced up to see Castiel’s mouth open, tongue resting on his bottom lip, eyes on Dean’s mouth.

_Kiss?_

No, not kiss. Just... this. Dean slunk up to Castiel’s face, revelling in the needy sigh Castiel gave, his mouth open to let Dean drip the come onto his waiting tongue. Their breath was out of sync, Castiel’s hands on Dean’s hips as he lay there, waiting for every remaining droplet to be in his mouth before he swallowed.

Dean was flushed with warmth, pleasure in every inch of his body, and he’d barely been touched. It was just _Castiel_ that did this to him, and he even had the ability to cause that when they weren’t thinking about sex, or mating, or anything. When Castiel laughed, he made Dean feel like this. When he smiled. When he spoke, or looked at Dean, or was even simply in the same room.

Dean let out a very happy purr, nuzzling Castiel’s cheek.

Castiel chuckled, then shoved Dean over onto his back, eyes intense and hands grabby. Dean burst out a noise of excitement, ready to enjoy anything Castiel would do to him.

Castiel sank over Dean’s body like Dean had done for him; he pressed gentle bites to Dean’s sternum, his nipple - Dean gasped - his stomach, his outer hip, his inner hip. By the time Dean felt teeth nibbling at the skin above his open jeans, he was bucking, and he could feel his cock bumping at Castiel’s throat.

Castiel growled low, nose dragging through Dean’s pubic hair. Dean felt a pulse of precome leave him as he heard and felt Castiel breathe him in, inhaling the dense scent of his sex.

“What’re you gonna do?” Dean asked, purely out of curiosity. He licked his lips, still tasting Castiel’s come on his face. “Cas, you gonna suck me?”

Castiel purred open-mouthed against Dean’s hipbone, and Dean’s head fell back against the pillow, a frenzied yowl escaping his lips. He bucked, heat soaring in him as Castiel rounded his lips on Dean’s cockhead, teeth gentle as they drew a line down the middle of his slit.

“Casssss...”

Castiel mumbled a laugh, the vibration of it becoming unbearably good for Dean. Dean’s hands went to his own hair, pulling at his own ears as he cried out. His own mind was pleasuring him as much as Castiel was, and Castiel’s mouth was monstrous as he suckled. Disgusting, beautiful noises met Dean’s ears, wet and sticky and hot.

Dean grumbled out a litany of careless sounds, limbs shivering, lips open and licked slippery. Castiel’s mouth didn’t suck deep, but his mouth was velveteen and so, _so_ gentle―

“Shit―”

Dean came without warning, and he felt the separation of his body and soul as pleasure poured into Castiel’s mouth, and it only got more intense as he felt Castiel swallowing it down, still sucking for more.

“Cas... Ca-ha-haaas,” Dean moaned, his whole body feeling like he was pooled in the middle of Castiel’s tongue, boneless and drowned in post-orgasmic bliss.

Castiel gasped for air, his warm, humid breaths gusting over Dean’s spent cock. Dean chanced looking down, seeing the pink-cheeked face of Castiel looking back from between his legs, a strand of come drooling down his chin.

Dean licked his lips, wanting it.

Castiel crawled over him, again doing as Dean had done for him; Dean curled his hands over the back of Castiel’s neck, pulling him down to lick his chin, making one long, rasping drag to wipe away every trace of his orgasm.

Castiel moaned against Dean’s tongue, and Dean poked his tongue out to meet Castiel’s.

Dean sighed, and turned his head to let Castiel groom his throat, wishing they could have tasted each other’s tongues again. It had only lasted a split second, and the taste of Castiel was still strong in his mouth. He would always want more of that.

Castiel raised his head again, and Dean opened his mouth automatically, not caring what Castiel put in but still expecting something. Castiel grinned, leaning in to bite Dean’s upper lip, teeth grazing until the flesh slid free.

“Again, do that again,” Dean breathed.

Castiel did, and Dean squirmed in pleasure as Castiel took his lower lip this time, teeth so careful with him, before his tongue tasted Dean’s mouth once more. Dean moaned, nodding his head up to bite one of Castiel’s lips. Castiel relaxed, eyes half-closed as they watched each other savouring this; biting, tentative licking. Never taking each others tongues into each other’s mouths, they only tested how they might go about such an act.

But then their lips touched: top lip to top lip, lower lip to tongue.

Dean froze, gasped, and pulled away, fear in his eyes as he looked at Castiel, who looked equally as startled.

Dean’s wide eyes asked the question for him: _Does that count?_

Castiel’s gaze fell to their lips, both of their mouths sore, reddened. He looked back to Dean and shook his head.

In relief, Dean rolled away, breathing out a sigh. “Fuck.”

Castiel slid a warm hand to cup Dean’s hip, fingers squeezing. Dean put a hand over his, fingers locking between each other. He looked down at where they held tight, and he wondered, would it really be such a big change? He and Castiel were technically already mates; they were best friends, they’d been through fuck-knows-what for each other, and they’d do it again in a heartbeat. All a kiss would change would be how God saw them. But for all they both knew, God was AWOL.

All a kiss would change would be how _Dean and Cas_ saw each other. Was Dean really ready to see Castiel as _forever_?

Aha, but the thing was... he already did.

Eyes closed, Dean sat up at the edge of the bed. He heard Castiel rustle, his hand unable to reach Dean to touch him. Dean, trying his best to be unemotional, stood up and buttoned his jeans, straightening his shirt.

“I’ll see you downstairs,” he said, moving to the door. “I’m makin’ pancakes.”

He closed the door without so much as a look back, and he really did wonder what Castiel thought as he left.

◆◇◆◇◆

****

**Chapter 9**

Sam wasn’t quite sure what happened after that. He’d been so sure Dean would make that brave leap and go right ahead, smooching the hell out of his fallen angel - but everything just seemed to fall apart after Sam talked with Castiel.

Castiel just wandered around the house, looking at Dean in confusion - Dean made them all pancakes, but refused to smile, and didn’t look anyone in the eye, particularly Castiel.

That day ended on a sour note, as the last of Castiel’s powers went on healing his head. Dean leaned on the partition wall and stared at him from the other side of the room, while Castiel lay curled up on the couch, probably feeling worthless without his power. Everyone sat in silent mourning until Bobby came along, gave Castiel a teapot with hot fennel in it, and told him to drink up and buck up, because he was still as useful as the rest of them.

Throughout this, Dean still said nothing, just fiddled with his shirt, then slunk away when Castiel took the tea upstairs.

Sam didn’t know what had happened between them, but it was clear they hadn’t kissed. Or even mated. Dean didn’t smell frustrated, but sad. Castiel just shut himself in his room for a day, and nobody tried disturbing him.

It was only two days later, when Castiel was resolutely digging up weeds in the yard as per Bobby’s instruction (“I ain’t got you a hunt yet, but those hands of yours ought to do somethin’ worthwhile.”) - Sam found that at least one thing had changed.

Sam would usually find pornography in his internet search history, where Dean would be looking up naked kitties (and more recently, Sam had seen a few intrepid searches for naked _male_ kitties, a fact which he tried his best not to think about). He had often considered telling Dean to clear the search history, but was sure that doing so would encourage Dean to search for things that filled the laptop with viruses that Sam would never be able to trace back and block.

This time, he found something drastically different.

The articles in question were all titled along the lines of “How to Kiss: A Step-By-Step Guide For Beginners”, “What to Expect for Your First Kiss”, “All About Kissing - How to know he’s The One”.

Sam was pretty sure those sites were aimed at women, and women younger than Dean at that. Teenagers, mostly. Most people didn’t expect to share a kiss with anyone until they were at least thirty - Dean had first kissed Sam’s forehead while they were still children, but their bond was exceptional in that they had to keep each other alive on a daily basis. But there were always some teenagers who were hopeful - kissing was more desirable than a wedding for most younger kids.

It was unanimous; everyone wanted that eternal bond.

Dean seemed to want it, too.

Sam wasn’t sure how to feel as he scrolled further back, finding internet searches for Dean’s curious questions, “how do i kiss a boy”, “what does kissing feel like”, “is thinking about kissing meant to turn me on??”

Sam couldn’t find it in him to be embarrassed for his brother, since they were perfectly valid questions. Kissing was an investment of sorts; it would help to be well-informed. With a sigh, Sam decided not to get involved, since it was none of his business. He cleared the search history, glad that not a single pop-up advertisement had come to haunt him this time.

But then it got worse.

Bobby got them a case, and it was pretty open-shut; they found the ghost, found the bones, burned everything, and were heading back to Bobby’s place within a single afternoon. But Castiel had barely spoken, and he’d been slow on the hunt. He’d aimed his gun wrong, and if Sam hadn’t been there to cover him, Castiel might not have come back as injury-free as he had.

That day ended. Another began, and Sam knew something was up. Dean came down in the morning looking like he’d been punched in the face - not literally, but emotionally. His tail was dragging, his ears drooped. He was drained, exhausted. Sam could practically smell fatigue on him.

“Not sleeping?” Sam asked, gently.

Dean just grunted and made coffee.

Two more days, and not only did Dean get tireder, Castiel got grumpier. Sam and Bobby discussed it, and while neither of them were prepared to go anywhere near the words ‘mate’ or ‘kiss’, they both knew what was going on. Neither of them had smelt Dean’s scent on Castiel, which could only mean they hadn’t touched. At all. And that was alarming.

Sam cornered Castiel while he was hanging up laundry in the sun, and Sam was surprised to note that Castiel’s tail was twitching. He usually took such pride in doing the chores; they were a duty, and Castiel liked duty. But this time, he just looked mighty pissed off.

“Cas,” Sam started.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Castiel snapped. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Sam replied, watching as Castiel’s tail knocked over the empty laundry basket.

Castiel closed his eyes as he breathed out, ears twitching in annoyance.

“Look, I get something happened―”

“Nothing happened!” Castiel rounded his shoulders and stood squared with Sam, glaring up at his face. “Everything was fine!”

“And then?”

Castiel looked away quickly, aborting whatever he was about to say. He paused, mulling over his words, before he said, “Then, I don’t know. He won’t look at me.”

Sam closed his mouth, thoughts becoming unclear. “And you don’t know why?”

Castiel stared at the dusty ground, trodden down by years of heavy boots. “We almost kissed by mistake.”

Sam squinted. “How is that even―”

“It’s nothing,” Castiel insisted, bending to pick up the basket and striding past Sam with an air of determination. “It’s only been a few days; I’m sure things will just... click back into place.”

With that, he shut the door in Sam’s face, leaving him outside. Sam sighed. “Yeah, I hope so.”

Nothing clicked. Castiel started breaking things by mistake, his mind clearly elsewhere. Dean stopped talking to _Sam_ , and that meant Castiel had attempted to talk to Dean and had mentioned Sam, and in the process, got shut down. It seemed hopeless for a while.

Castiel’s mood fell back to the way it was before, around the time he was “having issues”. This time, Dean didn’t seem as happy to help him through it. Castiel left conversations mid-sentence and slammed the door to his room, and nobody heard from him until mealtimes.

Sam tried not to think of him as acting like a stroppy teenager, but he was fairly certain it was a hormonal problem. Sam was ready to whack Dean around the head if he ever made a castration joke, but no such joke was ever made. Dean just sulked harder.

Bobby tried to intervene, he even got both Dean and Castiel sat down on the couch, and in true family fashion, they faced away from each other, arms folded, ears back, tails swinging angrily.

“You boys gonna let us know what this is about, or are ya gonna have it _affect_ our hunts? Because I got us a juicy nest of vampires all like sittin’ ducks for you to take out tomorrow, but I ain’t giving you a location until you sort your shit out. Comprende, mis amigos?”

Dean and Castiel both harrumphed.

Bobby sighed, eyes meeting Sam’s from across the library. Sam shook his head; they weren’t getting anything out of them today.

“Now, I get that this might be a _delicate_ situation―”

Unexpectedly, Castiel stood up and stormed out of the room. Every man heard his light feet on the stairs, then the slam as he closed his bedroom door.

“You’re going after him,” Bobby said. “Dean.”

Dean looked up.

“Now.” Bobby swatted his grey tail towards Dean, and Dean gathered Bobby’s no-nonsense manner was about twice as stubborn as Dean himself could ever hope to be.

With a terrible sigh, Dean stood up and loped out of the room, tail almost between his legs.

Sam watched him climb the stairs, Dean’s ears clutching closer and closer to his head the further up he climbed. Sam could sense the dread on him, it was pouring out of his skin like dry ice.

“You sure this is the right thing to do, Bobby?” Sam asked.

“Pff. Hell if I know,” Bobby replied, turning away. “But I’m plenty sick of their moping. If they’re gonna do their lovey-dovey crap, they ought’a do it properly.”

Sam hummed a thoughtful note, staring at the ceiling and wondering if they’d be forced to hear bed springs creaking anytime soon.

◆◇◆◇◆

****

**Chapter 10**

Dean knocked, but got no answer. Well then, that was that.

He walked away, but then realised, unless he came down with Castiel at his side, he’d be sent right back up. Bobby was forceful when it came to things like this; he hated these divides, and the fact that mealtimes were silent and brooding was doing nothing for the old man’s digestion, Dean knew that much.

Dean sighed and knocked again. “Cas, it’s me,” he said, lowly. “I just... heck, I dunno. Sorry to bother you.”

He wandered off down the hall, the tip of his tail sliding along the wallpaper. He made it as far as his bedroom door before he chickened out of going downstairs again, and decided his room was probably the safest place to avoid people, at least for a few hours.

He’d only done so much as collapsed face-down on his mattress when he heard a knock. He lifted his head and swivelled his ears, half-turned to see the door. “Yeah?”

The door snapped open and creaked an inch of space between the doorframe, and then opened enough to let Castiel pop his head in. “Dean.”

Dean didn’t want to be mad any more. He hadn’t wanted to be mad in the first place, it just so happened that when he didn’t know what to feel, ‘mad’ was his default.

“Dean, may I come in?”

Dean sat up and turned on his bed, sitting with his legs hunched as he nodded. Castiel shut the door behind him and walked in slowly, tail tense.

He sat on the end of Dean’s bed, as much space between them as possible. “I don’t know what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Dean said, crossing his arms on his knees and resting his chin on one. “I freaked out, that’s all.”

Castiel nodded, eyes down. “Dean, I can’t purr. It’s been weeks, and I―”

“I know. God, I know, Cas. I’m sorry. I’ve been shit to you.”

Castiel nodded, solemn. “If you don’t want to do this with me, that’s okay. I’ll understand. I think. I don’t know, I’m not sure what you’re scared of.”

Dean shrugged. “Just stuff. It’s nothin’, it’s fine.”

Castiel took in a shuddering breath and looked Dean in the eye. “I don’t think I’ve ever needed to play with you as much as I need to now. I’m falling apart, Dean. I’ve lost my power, my - ha! - my sanity is draining away now, and now I feel like I’ve lost you, too―”

Dean shifted closer, a hand reached halfway to Castiel, before he realised he was still too far away and dropped it. “You’ve not lost me. Okay? I’m right here.”

“But you don’t want me,” Castiel said. He closed his eyes and turned his face away, ears lowered to his head.

“We can play right now if you want.”

Dean swallowed. The last time they’d done it, they hadn’t been playing. That was half of what scared Dean away.

“Actually,” he added, since Castiel hadn’t replied, “let’s not play. Let’s mate. For real.”

Castiel looked over, silent questions flickering behind his eyes.

Dean just shrugged. “I’m kind of over the playtime thing.”

A hint of a smile brushed Castiel’s lips, and he almost looked happy before he turned away again.

“C’mon,” Dean muttered, crawling over the bed until he was right beside Castiel. “I’m - look - I’m a real ass for avoiding you. It’s just, after last time, I thought we maybe, y’know, _kissed_ ―” he whispered the word, “on accident. And that’s what got me spooked, okay? Kissing’s a big deal.”

Castiel sighed, face still turned. “If I told you I wanted to kiss you, what would you say?”

Dean’s heart kind of exploded with joy. “I’d, uh... I’d think that was... great.” His throat was tight, his hands were shaking. He couldn’t hold down his smile, but was forced to neutralise it when Castiel looked back; he didn’t want Castiel to see how happy he’d been made, he might seem too eager.

Castiel looked pleased, but not overly eager, either. Was he hiding it too, or did he not feel like kissing was the most amazing thing that the two of them could ever think about doing?

“Dean, would you want to kiss me, too?”

Dean blushed as he looked down. The thought of kissing Cas turned him on, but it also lit a flame in his heart that he was twice as aware of than the sexy little tingles happening down below. “Maybe.”

Castiel seemed satisfied by that. “Should we?”

Dean shook his head immediately. He launched himself back to his bed, burying his face in his hands, and his hands in a pillow, tail whipping the top sheet up over him. He just wanted to hide here. He’d already admitted enough, he couldn’t deal with how he felt right now, and the last thing he wanted was to get mad and push Castiel away.

He felt Castiel’s weight dipping the bed to his side, and he lay tense, wondering what Castiel would do.

With a chuckle, Castiel bit Dean’s ear where it poked up the blanket. Dean hummed into his hands, wriggling away.

Castiel pounced over him, straddling his back and biting down again, pulling the sheet away, hands going to grasp at Dean’s chest. Dean burst out laughing, happy - so, so happy - to have Castiel touching him again, biting him.

“Want to play, Dean,” Castiel whispered in Dean’s ear, voice deep and inviting.

Dean nosed out of his pillow, an eye meeting Castiel’s gaze at the side of his head. “Just play, or...?”

“The opposite of before. This time call it playing and have it be real.”

“So you’re saying,” Dean ventured, sitting up as Castiel rolled off him, “that all the times before, when I said we were mating, and having it be a game―”

“It was real for me,” Castiel said softly, mouth open on the corner of Dean’s shoulder, the t-shirt pulled down so Castiel could nibble at his skin. “Dean, it’s always been real for me.”

Dean shivered as he put his arms around Castiel shoulders, tugging him in for a close embrace. “Me too,” he breathed. “I didn’t know if you’d be okay with it being real, so I...” Dean pulled away, shrugging, “pretended it was pretend. I wanted to mate with you, and―” He looked away, troubled. “Fuck, it was just really fucked up to want that...”

“But I want it too, so it’s okay,” Castiel said, plainly. He put a hand on Dean’s head, squishing at his ear. “We can mate together.”

Dean managed a smile, and was nodding as he leaned into Castiel, laughing as he pushed him to the bed, grinning as he took his shirt off, then his own.

Castiel growled and hauled Dean down so he could nip at his tummy, then suck at his nipple before moving up, shoving Dean down onto his bed as they began to rock together.

“We gotta find new ways of mating,” Dean muttered, wrenching his jeans undone and letting Castiel settle between his parted thighs. “Every time we do this, I - oh fuck yes―”

Castiel was biting Dean’s ears, licking them, a hand going to tug on Dean’s cock at the same time.

Dean groaned, head falling back as he tried to complete his sentence. “I want you _inside_ me, you know?”

Castiel gave an evil chuckle against Dean’s throat, his deft hand moving off Dean’s cock, sliding back inside his jeans. Dean arched against the bed, expecting Castiel to remove his clothes, but instead found that hand pressing on him, making him call out a broken sound he’d never made before - and then he realised where Castiel’s finger was going.

“Cas, you can’t―” Dean gasped, hands clenching his sheets. “OH, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Castiel groaned, somehow pleasured by the feel of his finger pressing against Dean’s dry hole, as well as Dean’s helpless whimpers as Castiel wiggled that finger, sending shockwaves through Dean’s entire nervous system.

“Not there,” Dean hissed out. “You can’t do it there!”

“I can,” Castiel said, eyes dark and soulful as they peered down at Dean as he started to sweat. “Dean, I could fuck you there.”

Dean raised his hips off the bed and moaned, feeling his jeans slip down. Castiel’s whole hand grasped at Dean’s ass, the heel of his hand on his perineum.

“No,” Dean breathed. “No, not - _uuh_ \- not today.”

Castiel purred, lowering his face to Dean’s, nose rubbing to part Dean’s lips, then moving to lick Dean’s ears, teeth just as gentle as the first time they ever bit him.

“Mate with me?” Dean asked, face hot as he whispered the words against Castiel’s bare shoulder, inner urges powering his hips to buck, his hands tight on the muscles of Castiel’s back. “C’mon, Cas, mate with me. Wanna mate.”

Castiel groaned against Dean’s ears, his purr lost for a moment. “Yes.”

In a rush of movement, Castiel flung off what remained of Dean’s clothes, then stood on one foot to take off his own, leaving him naked, a beauty of male muscle and arousal, the sun from the skylight finally breaking through the clouds and surrounding them both in golden warmth.

Dean spread himself as Castiel joined him on the bed, his breath catching at the first feel of cock between his legs, firm and hard in the valley of his perineum, Castiel’s cockhead nudging at his soft ballsack. Dean rolled his head on the pillow, arms raising up as pleasure coursed in him, feeling relief after weeks of having avoided this.

He didn’t know what madness made him think avoiding this would be good. It was nothing but inevitable; he and Castiel were made for pleasuring each other - why else would Dean be so happy to see him, get so excited when he saw him unclothed, burst with sensation every time Castiel made to groom him, bite him, suck him?

“Oh, fuck me,” Dean muttered again, loving Castiel’s hands holding his hips steady, his whole body like solid heat over Dean. Lightning pleasure was touching down like Castiel was the sky and Dean was the Earth; Dean folded his body against him and took it, accepted it, adoring the feel of their tiny amount of wetness as they spread it between them.

Dean clutched Castiel to him, his lips hovering on his shoulder, teeth bumping his skin. He wondered, over and over, how easy he might find it to put lips on him without biting; kiss him.

_Kiss him, kiss him..._

But he let Castiel lead, let him decide. Castiel just needed to fuck it out right now; he was desperate, and purring up a storm against Dean, the vibration incredible in its fury. Dean loved its thunder, its magnitude of feeling inside him. He felt it in his soul, surely, the colours of Castiel’s sounds making shapes behind his eyelids.

“Turn over,” Castiel said, biting out a cry as another wave of _want want want_ possessed them both. Dean did as he said, flipping onto his hands and knees as Castiel―

Dean felt a hand against him, thumb against his anus, fingers on his perineum. He moaned, then sucked in a breath as the hand was removed―

A sharp whack bounced off him, not hurting him, but sudden enough that he barked, eyes wide in shock.

“What was that―?”

“I―” Castiel gasped, curling himself over Dean and shaking his head against his shoulder. “I don’t know, I just wanted to... do something angry. Like biting. But... with my hands, I’m sorry.”

“It didn’t hurt.”

“It wasn’t meant to.”

Dean swallowed. “Do you want to do it again?”

Castiel was still for a moment, then gave a quiet, slow nod against Dean’s shoulder. Shy, almost.

Then he pulled back, and Dean didn’t need a moment to brace before the hand met his backside again, bumping his scrotum, fingers tapping his cock. He found pleasure in it, tiny throbs of goodness pumping through his lower half.

“Is that okay?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah,” he said, curiously. “Again?”

Castiel did it again, and Dean gasped, lowering his head and clutching the pillow to his face, raising his ass so Castiel could do it again - again - again―

“Oh, fuck,” Dean groaned out, his hips collapsing to the bed, humping it. “Shit, I like that.”

Castiel straddled his lower back and clawed his hands against Dean’s ears, breath hot and furious against the nape of Dean’s neck. Dean moaned, feeling how _possessive_ Castiel’s tension was, the way his teeth sounded gritted around his heavy breath, his cock harder that it had ever been before as he started fucking the smooth skin of Dean’s lower back, riding against him.

“Ohhhhh...” Dean called out, weak all over. “Cas, bite me...”

Castiel didn’t hesitate before setting his teeth at Dean’s scruff, biting down until Dean came, his orgasm sinking straight into the sheets, his hands sweaty and unable to grasp anything as he felt an all-consuming lust that blinded him momentarily.

Castiel put his teeth back on Dean’s ear as soon as he had spilled himself empty into the sheets. “Mine,” Castiel said, his mouth full of Dean’s tufty ear. “You’re mine.”

Dean whined in earnest. “Keep bitin’ me. Bite until you come.”

Castiel did indeed bite him, but only for a second, before he ordered Dean to roll over once again. Dean shivered, still hungry for more - and that feeling only tripled as he saw what Castiel was offering him.

Dean sat up, Castiel’s legs either side of him, his cock pressed to Dean’s face. Dean curled his hands against Castiel’s ass, squeezed, moaning at the way the flesh pushed out between his fingers. Castiel let him sit there for nearly a minute, just breathing in the scent of his arousal, since it felt like such a wonder to smell it, now that the last of his grace was gone. Dean tasted it, then opened his mouth wide and looked up to Castiel, waiting for him to give it to him.

Castiel fed his cock into Dean’s mouth, and Dean shut his eyes, groaning deep as Castiel began to fuck him, kneeling up with his hands surrounding Dean’s head, holding him steady.

Dean sucked as best he could, but Castiel gave him the space once every few thrusts to pull back and swallow, before surging forward for more. Dean wanted to taste everything. Swallow everything. He loved using his mouth for this, loved the delighted sounds Castiel made.

“Dean...” came a breathy moan, and Dean looked up, riveted to see Castiel peering down with total reverence in his eyes. He looked at Dean the way he once looked at an altar in a church, only this time, he was on his knees for a totally different reason.

Dean found himself shoved down to the bed, the pillow under his head and shoulders keeping him up as Castiel thrusted into his mouth, low groans breaking up his purr, desperate whispers under every breath. Dean moaned too, hands touching any part of Castiel he could reach; his ass, his tail, his thighs, the backs of his knees.

“Dean... Dean... oh...”

Dean made sure to swallow everything that spilled into his mouth, even when it became too much, too filling, no space for the liquid as well as Dean’s tongue and Castiel’s cock. It was so warm, and it sank down his throat, heating his insides.

Castiel slid his cock out with a long sigh, a note of a groan through the sound. His hands touched Dean’s face with a soft adoration; Dean recognised it as loving. He looked into Castiel’s face, feeling the same.

Castiel gave a soft chuckle, seeing Dean’s face.

“What, what is it?” Dean asked, his voice wet and husky.

Castiel smiled, running a thumb down Dean’s chin. Dean realise he must have spilled semen down his face, unable to swallow it all.

Castiel ducked his head, and Dean slid off the pillow so he could lie flat, letting Castiel curl over him to lick the mess away. His tongue was as textured and rough as it had ever been, but he was gentle, shaping his licks around Dean’s lips, both of them savouring the taste.

Dean opened his mouth, letting Castiel’s tongue dip inside with a tentative touch, running over his teeth, lapping a greeting at Dean’s own tongue. Dean turned his head into the licks, a soft moan breaking free from the back of his throat.

Castiel licked closer and closer, and it was only when he stopped licking that Dean realised what this had become. Their mouths were less than an inch apart, sore and pink, wet. Open.

Dean met Castiel’s eye. There wasn’t any need for hesitation. He leaned in and put their lips together, a determined, wholesome kiss. It only lasted a second, and then they were both apart again, panting.

Their eyes darted between each other, hearts racing. _Did that just happen?_

Castiel’s gaze drew down to Dean’s mouth, still wanting. Still wanting more.

Lips met, breathing became harsh, more than just _wanting_ \- needing. Needing so much.

Wild, passionate kisses, mouths never breaking as they tossed against the sunny sheets like boats in a stormy sea, eyes shut, hands grasping for the other’s body, moans and grunts roiling between them without a place to escape, the sounds hanging in the air around them.

Kiss, more kisses, more more more.

Castiel eventually broke away, dragging in a loud gasp of air, heaving for oxygen as Dean just lay there, dumbfounded at this progression of events.

“Oh, shit,” Dean whispered.

Castiel just laughed.

Dean stared at the ceiling until he laughed too, and Castiel rolled against him, pulling him in so he could hold him tight. They wrapped their bodies around each other, tails twisting, mouths meeting again just for another taste of what the future would bring for them now.

“What do we call this game?” Castiel asked, lips set on Dean’s cheek as he peered at him through his dark lashes, Dean purring in his arms.

“Love?” Dean tried. Then he laughed, hiding under the sheets in embarrassment.

“No, that’s good,” Castiel assured him, trying to find him under the cloth, chasing Dean around the bed, lifting blankets and grabbing at random limbs until his ankle was secured, and Dean’s face was revealed from under the sheets, unable to stop blushing. “Love - I like love.”

“What about when you spank me?” Dean asked. “What do we call that?”

Castiel smiled. “What would you like to call it?”

Dean bit his lip and disentangled himself from the bed, crawling so Castiel could cuddle him again. (Dean maybe really liked the cuddling. And he liked calling it ‘cuddling’, but he’d never say that out loud.)

“We can call that love, too,” Dean said, purring as Castiel put his arms around him, and Dean didn’t even need to hesitate before nosing upward and putting a soft kiss on Castiel’s lips.

Castiel closed his eyes and cuddled Dean tightly, and Dean was literally the happiest person on the planet, he was completely sure of it. He could have just died from how happy he was.

They purred each other into oblivion, and Dean didn’t think it was even _possible_ to feel this happy.

He accidentally fell asleep, but at least he woke up before Castiel did. He was fairly certain Castiel had watched him sleep most of the time, but weirdly, that didn’t bother Dean. Maybe he liked that, too. Maybe it made him feel sheltered; safe.

He put his bare feet down on the floorboards and grabbed for his clothes, shucking on his shirt as he left the bedroom, closing the door as quietly as possible behind him. He had business to do in the kitchen.

◆◇◆◇◆

****

**Chapter 11**

Sam watched in slight confusion as Dean marched into the kitchen and started pulling out trays, then ingredients from the cupboard.

“How did it go?” Sam asked, sneaking a glance to Bobby, who looked equally as perplexed.

“How did what go?” Dean asked, thumping a bag of flour onto the kitchen workbench and sending up a white cloud.

“Your thing with Cas,” Sam said, slowly. “How is he?”

“Eh. Great, I guess.”

Sam stood up and went to stand in the kitchen, arms folded. Dean’s ears were perked up like the Empire State Building, and his tail seemed positively _cheerful_. “Did you mate?”

“Dude, what’s with the personal questions?” Dean snapped, grabbing a box of eggs and dumping them on the side, then going to scrub his hands very rigorously with dishwashing liquid.

“Just wondering. Because you seem happier.”

“Puh,” Dean said.

Sam watched Dean work for a few more minutes, considered that he was not really in a talkative mood, and left him to it.

Some time later, Sam’s mouth was watering at the extreme deliciousness of the smell coming from the kitchen, but Dean insisted it was not for him. Sam tried complaining, but Dean stuck his tongue out and rolled the wooden door closed in Sam’s face.

Sam only really got what was going on when Dean came back into the library, took some plain paper and went back into the kitchen. Sam followed him, and watched as Dean took a pair of scissors and cut a shape in the paper, then took a sieve of icing sugar and dusted it over the paper, over whatever it was he’d baked.

Sam got close enough to see: Dean had made a pie, and its top was now dusted with a white heart.

“Shut up,” Dean said, before Sam even got to say anything. “It’s not for you.”

“I gathered,” Sam replied, a sly smirk on his lips. “Where is he?”

Dean smiled, turning his face down shyly. “Asleep.”

“Aww, you wore him out?”

Dean scoffed. “Shut up,” he said again.

Sam clapped him on the shoulder and went back to the library, somewhat satisfied. He watched Dean carry a silver tray with a napkin and an origami flower on it up the stairs, tail swaying behind him.

Bobby and Sam watched the stairs, neither of them paying much attention to their work, but neither of them drew attention to that fact, either.

A few minutes later, Dean came back down, empty-handed, a smile on his face. He looked back up the stairs a few times, hopeful.

Sam and Bobby exchanged looks, then went back to work as Dean went to tidy up the kitchen.

Nearly an hour later, Dean was in the middle of making dinner when Sam saw the shadow of Castiel coming down the stairs, and he smiled when he saw the pie wrapped in Castiel’s hands along with the napkin, happily eating away.

Sam cleared his throat, and Dean nearly smashed something as he rushed to the kitchen door, eyes shining as he saw Castiel standing there, bed-rumpled, pie in hand and a massive smile like an aura around him.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said, falling off the door frame and sauntering over to Castiel, his manner somewhere between submissive and cocky. Sam hadn’t really seen him act like that before, and he got the impression there was a _reason_ he’d never seen it.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said, licking a spot of icing sugar from his lip. “Would you like some of this?” He offered Dean the pie, holding it up as Dean leaned in to take a mouthful.

A blob of apple filling slid down Dean’s chin, and Castiel laughed. Sam sat shocked in his seat as Castiel closed the distance between them and licked up the apple, tongue lingering. Dean stood there dumbly, a wobbly smile on his face.

Then Castiel kissed his nose, and just like that, Sam knew what had happened upstairs.

“I’ll be damned,” Bobby muttered under his breath, too quiet for anyone but Sam to hear.

Dean and Castiel half walked, half tumbled into the kitchen, laughing as they went, Dean saying soft, loving words as he went to show Castiel what he’d cooked.

“Well,” Sam said, then ran out of words.

“Hm.” Bobby tutted, then reached for another book as a low giggle escaped from the kitchen. “Dinner smells great.”

“Uh-huh,” Sam replied, suddenly very interested in his research.

(Dinner was definitely great. But the scent of ‘newly kissed’ was about as unbelievably disgusting as ‘must mate right now’. And this time, they could smell Castiel’s scent as well.)

◆◇◆◇◆

Then a few weeks later, Sam encountered something that probably trumped his list of Things He Would Rather Not Have Seen.

◆◇◆◇◆

“Are you ready, Dean?”

Dean screwed up his face, squinting hard at the sliver of moonlight that caught the back of the couch in silver. He could feel the heat of Castiel between his open legs, and this heat of himself pressed to his abdomen. He was thrilled for this, he’d been working up to it for a couple of weeks now. Slow fingers just didn’t seem enough any more. But he was still nervous.

He puffed out a breath, turning his gaze to the ceiling, wondering how likely it was that Sam or Bobby would hear them. It was gone two in the morning, and it had been a pretty crazy decision to do this on the couch rather than in one of their beds, but Castiel wanted it in _this_ position, so he could lean back, and Dean could sit in his lap and... bounce.

But it wasn’t happening. Dean whined, closed his eyes tight and biting his lip.

“Shh,” Castiel said, curling his arm around Dean’s lower back and pulling him in, putting a kiss on Dean’s clothed middle. “We don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

“I _am_ ready,” Dean retorted, clutching a hand on one of Castiel’s ears. “I’m just... This feels really wrong. Dirty.”

Castiel tilted his head to the side. “Because it’s―”

“Because it’s just like real mating, like how girls do,” Dean finished. “I’m not a girl. And in any case,” Dean laughed uncomfortably as he gestured down to his parted thighs, erection straining, “this hole ain’t really for fucking.”

“It’s been done before,” Castiel said, rubbing a soothing hand down Dean’s back. “People have enjoyed every part of their mate’s bodies since the species began; it can’t be too terrible to assume two males have never tried mating there.”

His fingers slid between Dean’s buttocks to test how the hand lotion was faring. Dean had applied it himself, sliding as much inside as he could manage, but he still had a niggling feeling it would rub in, and he’d end up with a perfectly moisturised butthole but not much in the way of lubrication. And so, he’d brought the whole bottle with him, and it sat quietly where Bobby’s lamp used to be.

“Yeah... but...” He struggled to speak, distracted by the feel of Castiel’s fingers pushing inside him. He moaned low, rolling back on those fingers. He was stretched well; the digits sat comfortably in him, and he could feel how satisfyingly tight he would be around Castiel’s cock. “But I’ve never done this before...”

Castiel put another kiss to Dean’s chest, then tipped his face up to kiss his chin. “You’re safe with me. I won’t hurt you.”

“I know,” Dean said, smiling slightly. Even though the games they’d played acted out fantasies of hurting one another - biting, slapping, shoving - they never once broke skin, nor marked it beyond a few minutes worth of damage. They never let anything hurt; they’d both been hurt too much already, and pain was always a bad thing.

Dean took another calming breath, pleased at the wet hand that Castiel then moved to tug his cock with, the lotion making the sound of skin-on-skin tacky and squishy. Dean thrust into Castiel’s fist once, then nodded.

“All right, let’s do it.”

Castiel let go of Dean’s cock to take hold of his own, and Dean cupped his own balls so he could see what he was doing. He felt Castiel’s cockhead nudging his entrance, slipping around but not going inside.

“God, it’s like trying to land a freaking airplane,” Dean complained, turning his head but finding it impossible to see where he was meant to sink down.

“Stay still, let me guide it in,” Castiel said.

Dean hovered, thighs keeping him a few inches off Castiel’s lap. His jeans straggled around his knees, bunched against Castiel’s own. Dean felt Castiel’s hand poking his hole, and Dean lowered himself, following the fingers, and finally - _fucking hell_ \- Castiel’s cockhead slid inside him.

“Oh, that’s... hard,” Dean muttered, eyes closed. He squeezed his scrotum, thumbing at the base of his cock.

“Go down,” Castiel said, a hand on Dean’s lower back again. “Go all the way down? If you can.”

Dean tried, ever so slowly spreading his weight downwards, thighs sliding an inch or two on the couch. He breathed hard, eyes falling to watch Castiel’s face as Castiel watched them joining together.

“Oh god, oh god,” Dean breathed, losing it a little because there was something _inside_ him, just like he wanted, and it felt so strange, so foreign. Hot, throbbing because Castiel was excited, because he wanted it too.

“Are - _ohh_ \- are you okay to move?”

Dean nodded shakily, licking his lips as he raised himself up, just an inch, before rolling down again. Castiel’s cock was locked into him, sliding, but they fit _together_ like jigsaw pieces, and that idea in itself was spazzing Dean’s brain out.

“Ouhhh...” Castiel groaned, his head falling back against the couch.

Dean let go of his cock and raised a hand to touch Castiel’s ears, fingering their edge, running the fur back the wrong way. Castiel groaned again, hips humping against Dean just once, reactive.

They went slow, still just testing. There was no rhythm, moving their hips only when the other’s helpless humping reminded the other that there was in fact something more to be done, other than sitting there and enjoying their bodies being joined like this.

But then Dean moved forward to kiss, and the change of angle sparked a tremendous shock of pleasure in him, and he cried out, hands clenching in Castiel’s hair, on his shirt. Castiel purred quickly, then stopped, pleased for that second by Dean’s outburst.

Then their lips met, and both of them simply melted into the other. What little rhythm they had was lost, and they just sank together, Dean’s arms around Castiel’s shoulders, hands open on his back, Castiel’s mouth searching out Dean’s tongue just to surround it and consume it.

Dean let out a rumbling moan, something beautiful being created and destroyed by their kiss. He could feel Castiel’s heat seeping slowly inside him, and he twisted himself into him, wanting to absorb that heat. Castiel groaned open-mouthed against Dean’s lips, and Dean devoured the sound, trying to copy it, making only growls of pleasure as Castiel’s cock thrummed inside him.

There was something about the light between them that the surrounding darkness couldn’t replicate, and Dean felt like they were glowing hotter and brighter and more intense, and yet they were barely moving at all, just sucking each other further down into their beautiful vortex of sin.

Mating, mating, mating, making love.

Kissing passionately, holding hands, hands exploring, eyes closed so they could see the shape of each other and nothing else.

Fingers never did this justice. Castiel’s cock inside Dean went deeper than fingers, harder than fingers - and far more filling, causing more pleasure. Dean finally broke the kiss just to look down, wishing he could see where their parts were meeting.

“One day,” he gasped, swallowing, “one day we gotta do this in a mirror. So I can see you fucking me.”

Castiel barely lifted his eyes to meet Dean’s before they were interrupted.

“Holy crap!” Sam dropped something, a plastic bowl and a spoon, and they skittered across the floor.

Dean’s head whipped around at the noise, and he dragged in a breath, “Sam! Fuck, Sam―”

Sam hurtled into the kitchen, suddenly making a lot of noise with cupboards and packets and things, Dean didn’t know or care what.

“Shit,” Dean whispered, his head falling to rest on Castiel’s shoulder. “Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” Castiel whispered back, kissing Dean’s temple. “We can finish, he’s not watching. He can’t hear us.”

“But he’s right there, he saw us―”

“Dean, we can finish,” Castiel said, firmly. “Relax.”

Another almighty clatter came from the kitchen, and Sam started humming, loudly and badly, trying to make as much noise as possible.

Dean curled up tight around Castiel, breathing slowly against his neck. “I thought this would be private.”

“So did I,” Castiel whispered back, stroking Dean’s ears. “But Dean, he’s not part of this. He’d giving us time. Just... finish this, I want to keep going.”

Dean let Castiel cradle him, let him start up their rhythm again, hips dragging upward into Dean. Dean didn’t do much, too intent on simply regaining the feeling of being the only person in Castiel’s world, being the only one who would ever be held like this.

Castiel put kisses everywhere on Dean he could reach, lips breaking over his neck, his cheeks, his eyelids. Dean’s eyelashes fluttered, and Castiel chuckled and kissed him there again, cock still pushing inside him, heat pooling in Dean’s lower half.

In a few minutes, Sam’s tuneless humming faded away, and Dean was singing Castiel’s song in his head, something about light and honesty, ancient and forever and... something he’d forgotten, years ago. He felt at peace, and he wondered for a moment if any of Castiel’s powers still lingered, because it had to be the fault of some kind of magic that he could do this to Dean.

Their tails twisted like vines, together and apart, together and tight, Dean eventually leading the two of them in a dance, twirling them both as they rubbed on the edge of the sofa, fur ruffling messily.

It occurred to Dean, at a point when he’d lost all sense of time or spatial relation, that the point of this act wasn’t pleasure the same way it had been before, or release of any kind, nor want. Not even need. It was a perfectly useless kind of mating that they did now - perhaps it was exploration, trying a new way to do something they’d done before - but really, all it could bring them was closeness.

Castiel kissed Dean, and each kiss was another bond that could never be broken.

About a week ago, Dean had found out that on average, of the people who found someone to kiss - the closest of family or the most committed of lovers - they only kissed at the most desperate of times, like Dean had with Sam. Some married couples never kissed, and that was okay. Some couples kissed ten, twenty times in their time together.

Dean and Castiel had to have kissed at least fifty times a day since they’d kissed first. It was abnormal, and Dean wasn’t sure if thinking about it would change how special it felt to know that. He and Castiel were already strange together, being males. But now they had this bond, that would go forged for thousands of years beyond death. More special than anyone’s.

Dean took himself higher and higher at the thought of it, and eventually orgasmed, the full awareness of what their kisses meant causing him unbelievable satisfaction. Being loved that much was overwhelming. Castiel kissed him through his climax, taking Dean’s gasp between his lips and sealing another kiss. Dean kept rolling down on him, wishing and hoping that these sweet moments of copulation would never end.

He could do this forever, and maybe that was the point.

Castiel sobbed out a sudden cry, and Dean held him as equally as Castiel had held him, and rocked him until Castiel was coming dry, every drop already spilled inside Dean. Dean moaned softly, floating in the sensations that touched every part of his body, encapsulated neatly under his skin.

Castiel kissed Dean’s lips again, and Dean turned his head to lick at his tongue, shivering at the feel of their rough tongues brushing each other. Castiel laughed, nuzzling the side of Dean’s head as they moved their mouths away from each other, purring so much that Dean had barely noticed it; it was as easy as breathing.

Dean sighed, smiling against Castiel’s cheek. “We kiss too much.”

“We kiss a lot,” Castiel countered, running his lips against Dean’s jaw as he spoke. “It’s not too much.”

“It’s more than anyone.”

“Maybe our bond is stronger.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah. Right.”

Castiel shook his head, and Dean knew there was a great deal of reasoning behind why he said things like “our bond is stronger”. But Castiel didn’t want to tell Dean, so Dean didn’t ask. He figured maybe it was a private angel thing.

With a wince, Dean shifted to let Castiel’s flaccid cock slide out of him. He stood up, glancing to the kitchen, where Sam was now half-heartedly still banging a pan on the edge of the table as he sat with his chin in a hand, facing away. Why he hadn’t left already was beyond Dean.

Dean tucked himself back into his jeans, feeling wet from behind, and spent all over. He was exhausted, somehow, and he’d made so few movements. He could only imagine what Castiel felt right now, having done most of the work.

Neatening his clothes, Dean pushed himself up against Castiel as soon as his jeans were done up too, and they kissed again, this time without the feeling like Dean was hurling himself out into space as their tongues touched. Feelings like that only came when they mated, but right now, he only felt a mild-to-startling level of star-trotting. Castiel kind of inspired visions of the universe behind the darkness of his closed eyes.

With a grateful sigh, Dean moved away from Castiel, hoping very soon they could go crawl together in one of their beds and kiss each other to sleep. But first, Dean thumbed over his shoulder, indicating to Castiel that he had a word to have with Sam. Castiel nodded, staying put.

◆◇◆◇◆

****

**Chapter 12**

Sam’s arm was aching like hell, so the moment Dean edged into his vision with an awkward wave, Sam put down the pan and muttered, “Thank God. All I wanted was another bowl of cereal, I hate you.”

Dean tucked his hands under his arms, pulling a wonky grin. “Uh.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “What is it?”

“What you saw just now. That wasn’t... I mean, it’s not a real―” Dean cleared his throat, eyes searching the floor for his next excuse, tail twisting on his leg. “When me and Cas do shit like that, it’s not actually―”

“I don’t friggin’ care, Dean,” Sam said, weariness punctuating every word. “I don’t care that you’re boys, that you’re mating, or if you’re―” he wafted a hand back to the library, seeing Castiel waiting patiently in the moonlight. “If you’re kissing.”

Dean shifted, but said nothing.

“I’m happy you have that,” Sam finished. “Just next time, please, for the love of sanity, do it somewhere private.”

Dean set his bare feet together and rubbed his toes against each other. “Yeah. Okay.” He cleared his throat again. “I’m gonna get to bed now.”

“I’m glad _somebody_ gets to do that,” Sam grumbled.

Dean smirked, then hesitated. Sam definitely wasn’t expecting Dean to lean in close and peck Sam firmly on the cheek. “G’night, little brother.”

With bemusement clouding his senses, Sam watched Dean leave, seeing his brown tail swishing behind him with a happy curl at the end of it. Dean paused at the doorway to kiss Castiel on the lips, and tried to pull him to follow. Castiel shook his head, indicated he wanted to talk to Sam. Dean shrugged, kissed Castiel again, then took his leave.

Sam sat and waited for Castiel to approach.

“You know,” Castiel said, slowly, “You could have just done some dishwashing. The sink is full.”

Sam glanced to the kitchen sink, which was indeed brimming with dirty dishes. “It’s the middle of the night. I don’t do chores after dark.”

Castiel smirked.

Sam had overheard Dean and Cas’ last moments of conversation, and now that Castiel was here, listening, he couldn’t help but ask: “How often do you kiss? I mean, if it’s not too personal.”

“A lot,” Castiel said.

“How much is a lot?”

“We’ve kissed more than two thousand times.”

Sam wasn’t the kind of person to faint. But he could have. That figure was jaw-droppingly horrifying in its hugeness. Beyond insane.

“Oh my god,” he managed, eyes unfocusing.

Castiel sat down at the table opposite Sam. Sam wondered what on Earth he could have to say that required cupped hands and his trademark owlish stare.

“When I rescued Dean from Hell,” Castiel began, looking at his own hands now, ears twitching once, then sitting still, “he was being held prisoner. He didn’t see the chains, but they were still on him, even when he thought he broke them, when he turned to... pulling other people’s chains.”

Sam nodded, understanding.

“In order to free him, I had to release the chains. Imagine them as metal links, each circle connected to another to form a rope, nigh-unbreakable. Chains of Hell, you understand.”

Sam nodded again.

“Now, what better to break the chains of Hell than the loving touch of Heaven?” Castiel began to smile, wistful and smug at once.

“You’re saying―”

“I’m saying I kissed every part of him that was chained. Every hook through his body, every shackle around his wrist. Every day there were new chains, and each one had a hundred links.”

Sam gawped, knowing it was too much for his mortal mind to really fathom.

“I kissed him once for every day he spent in Hell. Once for every link. Once for every time he screamed.”

Castiel smile was eerie now. Haunted by his memory.

He lowered his gaze and looked away, smile falling as his ears flattened, then perked back up again. “I lost count of how many times I kissed him.”

“This whole time,” Sam said, watching Castiel carefully, “you and him were already bonded.”

Castiel gave a quiet laugh, and this time his smile was pleased, a modest joy crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Profoundly, yes.”

Sam smiled. “Well, I guess that’s...”

“It’s good,” Castiel said, nodding up to meet Sam’s eye. “It feels good to have Dean return the bonds. This time he can free _me_.”

“Free you, because you’re chained to the planet without your grace,” Sam guessed. “Chained to your body?”

“No,” Castiel said. “I’m not chained to anything. Without my grace, I’m free.”

Sam shook his head, not sure what Castiel meant. If he was already free, what was there for Dean to help him escape?

Castiel stood up, moonlight blocked by his lithe form. “Sometimes, it’s just nice, to enjoy something nobody else can have. I can’t travel through time, I can’t jump between one continent and the next in the blink of an eye. I don’t have that any more, but I have Dean.”

Sam shook his head again, eyes following Castiel as he headed for the stairs.

Castiel paused at the doorway, turning back with a sly smile on his face. “It’s having a secret. Keeping something just for you; having your own things, your own thoughts. Your own way to love. That’s what it is, that’s what freedom is. When Dean kisses me...” He glanced to the stairs, then back to Sam. He shrugged. “I feel free.”

Sam watched him go up the stairs, bare-footed, tail as happy as Dean’s had been. Sam didn’t get it, and maybe he’d never get it, but he was glad Dean and Castiel were satisfied.

He’d heard Dean’s purr for the first time ever tonight, and that was special enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Jace Everett's 'Bad Things'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MdjHwSShzsc).  
> Shout-out to Millie, who beta'd this for me and deserves a basket of kittens (real ones) in thanks.
> 
> There's fanart of this fic!  
> One by the-little-shipper [here](http://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/57139637493/the-little-shipper-some-cat-person-destiel-for), and one by comewhenyoucall, [here](http://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/77908459789/comewhenyoucall-art-for-almaasis-bad-things)! I am so utterly grateful, I could purr.


End file.
